FOR the last three days The Garden Project has taken over our lives.
The Current Mrs Feeney, Arthur the Handy Gardener and I have been working on my father’s garden from dawn until dusk as we set about restoring it after twenty years of neglect.
Boundaries have now been cleared of any remaining detritus, ready for the fencing company to sink concrete posts and erect a six-foot feather-edged and capped fence.
Meanwhile, we have managed to insert larch wood panels into the hedge running alongside the village lane, to provide some privacy until the hedge fills out next Spring.
We have dug up and removed the mounds of sawdust left by grinding down to ground-level the stumps of the cherry and copper beech trees felled by the tree surgeons.
Arthur and I have been on the garage, removing a carpet of ivy. We were able to roll it up in one piece, while The Current Mrs Feeney offered motivational support like “Don’t fall through the roof!”
Today we are having a day off. I intend to spend it watching the roofers remove a chimney.