lhude sing cuccu

I have been uncommonly productive today. Filled with a strange energy, provenance unknown, I have committed wonders from the street side of the yard to the bushwhacking side. I am now tired, sore, creaking. Numorous small wounds dot my fingers. Even so, were I not actually drinking beer, who knows what more I would attempt? Frightening, really.

It all started with the lawnmower. The unassembled lawnmower we purchased yesterday at Lee Valley, purveyors of fine gadgets and artsy woodworking implements. To read their quarterly catalogue is to drool, unrepentantly, over planes the size of one's thumb, brass-bound trowels, cunningly wrought carving knives and more. All described not just lovingly, but enthusiastically, just-as-geeky-as-you.

I've been wanting a push mower for ages; our landlord had promised us one, but at the last minute reneged and left us the electric one instead. He was convinced a push mower was too difficult for women to manage. Hand to God, that's what the man said.

This left Nola doing all the lawnmowing, as I cannot abide noisy tools. I tried, a couple of times, but just starting it up put me in a towering rage. I have the same problem with vacuum cleaners, and leaf blowers, come to think of it. Nasty things.

So anyway, we got a push mower at Lee Valley yesterday, and avoided by main force buying up a stock of furniture clamps, carving knives, a splendid workbench or six, nor brass drawer pulls by the gross. Okay, I did get a new toolbelt. And work gloves. But still.

The mower came in a box, unassembled. It was just the handle that was in pieces, thank goodness, not the cutting or rolling bits. And this morning, fueled by sub-standard coffee, I settled in to assembling it. I first read the instructions. One should always read the instructions, if only for the entertainment value. I still remember putting together a shelving unit many years ago, where the instructions began "Lay side on horse." These were almost as good, consisting as they did, in two languages, of "Attach [this piece] to [that piece] using proper hardware provided." There were several pages, with pictures. Only one of them was useful. I declined to read the list of cautions.

Still and all, I managed. And once together, it performed very well indeed. That is to say, it cut what grass there was without any great roaring or buzzing or fussing with electrical cables. And without all that nonsense, I cut the grass in half the time it usually took.

Well, you can't cut the grass without thinking about, especially in spring, what all should be done to spruce up the flowerbeds and so on and so forth, and there were quite a lot of twigs from the hemlocks in the front that still littered the grounds, so having hosed off the mower I hauled out a rake and prettied the front.

That should have been enough for one day, but I was still raring to go, heaven knows why. I tried making lunch and settling down with a good book, but the siren call of the outdoors was too much for me. I ended up airing the tires on my bike and pedalling down to the local garden store for more flowers, and then sweeping the back patio, scrubbing the outside tables, doing the dishes (!), prepping supper, playing ball with Cardhu, folding washed clothes... Thank goodness Nola finally got home from teaching.

Now time to throw the steaks on the grill and do this and that to pull supper together. At least the day ended before I hauled all the curtains off to clean and press.