And Then There Was a Shed

I possess that lethal combination of serious impatience and an overactive imagination. I cannot understand why a new path, a custom built shed, and an orchard and berry+ nut garden can’t just Be There. In a week, maybe two. But seven weeks, and still no orchard? Come On.

I know, I know, it’s mid winter, we’ve had snow and hail; the yard is a cliff and needed new stairs; the planting had to be planned, plants ordered, planter boxes need to be measured and built and installed. And yes, the shed is being built into an awkward hill; it certainly doesn’t come out of a box. Even so, the waiting has been torture.

Rational me knows what’s going on and why. Impatient and imaginative me (by far the biggest portion) has been gritting her teeth, sitting on her hands, biting her tongue… keeping it all in check of course, practicing patience and understanding. Waiting. It's been hell. 

Anyway, this week the shed got finished. It's beautiful. Exactly how I imagined – well it will be once it’s painted and has a big old rambling rose and a few kiwifruit vines and maybe a grape growing over it. 

It's tucked in over the old pathway, not exactly invisible, but with all the shenanigans going on in the fences and retaining walls on our street, it's certainly not out of place. There will be a crab apple grabbing attention on the street side, and maybe an espaliered pear on the side facing the neighbour--communal fruit of course. 

The path is finished too, and I can see and smell the glistening clusters of currants growing in the planter boxes; I can feel and taste the herbs and salad growing out of the ivy bank… only in my mind, mind. But I reckon we'll be at least half way to an orchard by next weekend. There's already a standard olive in a pot on the top landing, two dwarf peaches lined up in the courtyard, and an assortment of understudies and extras lined up beside the house. If it's fine tomorrow, the planting is starting.

A quick word about August. It's got to be writers' slump month. This is the second August I've have this blog, and even though this year I'm not sick, I'm still sluggish when it comes to writing. Perhaps it's that twilight zone between short days and long, foul weather and fair, deep freeze and spring warming. Something makes me reticent to pick up the camera. Something stops me writing up the meals, the garden finds. Perhaps just a mini hibernation before the excitement of the spring outburst and the inevitable celebration of all things edible.