Untethered

Thursday 16 April continued

For lunch I have home-made hummus.

    I started making hummus, instead of buying it from the supermarket, shortly before the lockdown as my small contribution to reducing single-use plastic. Now, it’s a godsend as I can keep cartons/tins of chickpeas in the store cupboard (when I can buy them) and have hummus whenever I want it. This batch is very garlicky and I make a mental note to add some to Frog’s supper so that I don’t repel him.

    I'm eating outside with my hat on to shield me from the sun as it's too windy to put the parasol up.

    We have a problem with shade in our garden as it’s open to the prevailing south-westerly winds and in Devon these can be quite strong. Parasols never last and even our mini-marquee-gazebo uprooted itself one day and flew into the hedge. Frog splinted its broken skeleton with pieces of wood and fixed its ropes with screw-in ground-anchors (rather than skewers) but it was never the same again, so last year we gave up and took it to the recycling centre.

    Our latest ruse is a shade-sail but it's not arrived yet even though we ordered it three weeks ago. The company say they are inundated with orders and many weeks behind. Presumably (with the lockdown) everybody is planning long hours in the garden this summer.

    All we have so far are the post-holders, which is a pity as I could do with a nice job outside, digging the post-holes with Frog, but we don't want to do anything till we have the sail and can lay it out and plan its position.

The post-holders, waiting forlornly

After lunch I wander round the garden (followed by Ellie as usual), putting off the time when I do something ‘useful’. What is ‘useful’ however? I’m not sure I know any more. I don’t even know if ‘useful’ is desirable. My life is topsy-turvy in so many ways.

    Last summer Frog retired. He was only working three days a week by then but even so that was three days I had to myself and which I now share with him. At least before the lockdown we each went out separately at times on shopping trips or to yoga (me) but now we’re together 24/7 which is lovely but demanding and every time I start doing something Frog comes along and asks me if I can help with something he’s doing. (I know I’m guilty of doing the same to him.) Perhaps that’s why I love writing so much, because I can shut the door of my room and know I won’t be disturbed except for dire emergencies.

My room - the place where I sew and write

For a year and a half, up until last December, I was writing full time, firstly describing our trip to Norway in summer 2018 and then redrafting The Novel. The writing gave my life structure and anything ‘useful’ was relegated to second place and had to be fitted in as and when. With the novel to one side, however, the list of  jobs is endless.

    And now with the lockdown I'm  feel as if I’m on holiday all the time. I can do exactly what I want – and that’s a fairly long list too.

    Topsy-turvy in so many ways. Not so much locked down as untethered.

As I walk past the house I admire the sparkling clean glass and window-frames. For the last week Frog and I have been washing the windows inside and out, a job both useful and satisfying. It’s probably ten years since we last did them and it’s immediately noticeable how much extra light we get in the house. I think of Frog's philosophy: do useful things because you want to not because you have to. It's a subtle and wise distinction. I realise that we did the windows for ourselves, not in a panic because someone was visiting.
    I'm pleased we've finally had the time - and that's not because our daily lives are vastly changed by the lockdown but because with the lockdown stretching indefinitely into the future there doesn't seem to be any urgency about anything any more. 

    

The sparkling clean conservatory doors and windows

I’m up to date with the gardening, I think, as I wander past the flower beds. I pruned the shrubs earlier in the year and I leave the rest because I love wildflowers so much I can’t bear to remove them.

    I reach my raised veg beds and stoop to check on the potatoes. They've started to shoot and I think of those delicious new potatoes which I hope to dig in a couple of months. Yum.

Potato shoots (and ground ivy, which I leave because it doesn't do any harm)

My Swiss chard is coming on too and it won't be long before we have something other than purple sprouting broccoli to eat. Not that we're complaining. It's exceptionally sweet and tender this year and even Frog - not a fan of healthy dark-green veg - is relishing it.

 

Swiss chard

Purple sprouting broccoli (and rhubarb)

As I pass the greenhouse, I think of my tomato plants and parsley in the conservatory, grown from seed, waiting for the nights to warm up so that I can bring them out here.

Tomato plants and parsley seedlings keeping warm in the conservatory

And I’m waiting for the new moon on Thursday to sew my cucumbers, courgettes and runner beans. (The moon does make a difference – they proved it on ‘Gardeners’ World’ so it must be true.)

    I’ve never grown cucumbers and tomatoes from seed before but I rightly guessed that plants wouldn't be available this year and managed to buy some seed before the lockdown. I’m quite proud of that. I'm OK for runner beans seeds as I've been saving my own every year recently and I’m proud of that too.

I wouldn't say I was a true gardener - I don't spend hours pottering about in the garden - but I do grow as much veg as I can because I love eating home-grown veg - the taste is incomparable. And I have a sense that this summer having one’s own veg might be important. At least it will mean we won’t have to go to the supermarket so often which is at the moment a ‘vile’ experience, as Frog’s sister so accurately described it.

Ellie rushes to the gate and starts barking frantically. It’s TNT delivering some blinds for the Velux windows in my room – again in anticipation of a long hot summer at home.

    ‘Sorry about the noise,’ I say to the delivery man. ‘She’s desperate to say hello to you. She’s finding this social distancing very hard.’

    The man laughs, dumps the parcels outside the gate and vanishes with a cheery wave. Delivery people are working so hard at the moment. They don't stop to chat like they used to and we were given a time slot up until seven in the evening. At least they don’t have to bother with signatures any more.

    It’s true though. Ellie can’t understand why I won’t let her rush up to humans at the moment. She loves company, unlike Frog and me.

    And that's something else from which I've been released - the pressure to be sociable - even though I feel closer to other people than before and kinder. Somehow the thought of all those people ill or bereaved or alone at home or struggling to make ends meet or in cities where the parks are closed awakens one's compassion.

    To be continued