The Good Life

"Now this," said the builder who had just dropped in to advise Ken that one of his quotes had been successful, "is what you call the Good Life. Remember that programme with Felicity Kendall?"
Unashamedly old enough - just - to remember the hilarious couple who wanted to get back to the basics in suburban England long before it became the catchcry of the early 21st century, I am rather flattered at the comparison. Although it would be nice to be paid as much as the actors were to experience it!
What's more, I am terribly excited at the moment to find I have just scored something I have been lusting over ever since I first saw it and because I was sitting in the middle of the lawn in my garden patch visualising just where this much coveted thing was going to go when the builder turned up, I can freely understand why he thought that way.
Good friends of ours have for one reason and another decided to get rid of some bits and pieces. And one of those things happens to be an amazing potting shed he built out of two large old school windows, strategically placed timber and green plastic opaque roofing. And a lot has been grown in this wondrous shed that had even my mother salivating - she of the green arms, never mind fingers or thumbs.

Some of the other will be a large chook run, plus the 12 wonderful Plymouth Barred Rock young pullets that live in it. As our own chook shed will be here next week, this will be added on as we want the chooks to be an integral part of what we will do here - free range eggs are always popular and it is completely irrelevent that we both love the sociable hens. Although with Ken away painting this week, I am not exactly sure how well versed I am going to be in terms of the kitset large run that is arriving.
The builder laughed when he heard about this. "Well I was wondering where the chooks were, you have everything else!"

Which is just about true. The 45-odd fruit trees (at last count) are doing well, having just been cleared, re-mulched and a feed of nitrogen and other bits and pieces. The green grass is entirely due to being on townwater supply - there still has been after two months now, only half a day of light drizzle. (The neighbour with the problem cows has not watered his land - and you can see the difference and the reason for why they ARE problem cows -  in the background). I have just heard today we are not due for any of the autumn rains until 27 March. I mean, for heaven's sake!
I decided to do this backbreaking work via the quad bike and my small green garden trolley, the handle of which I have discovered fits neatly over the bike's tow bar. I don't care if it looks hilarious, as I can't back a box trailer to save my life, this wee plastic tipper trolley holds enough mulch to do five trees at a time. It must have looked funny though... I am tootling along in first gear, with Ellie on the back (I will get a pic of this up soon so you have have a good laugh at my expense!) and as the throttle is sensitive, my finger kept slipping and the bike kept sounding as if it was going to stall. Poor Ellie looked as if she wanted to be anywhere else but where she was, as her claws tried to stop her from sliding very gently from one side of the tray to the other. Her own fault, as she has this idea that wherever Mum is, she has to be there as well, just in case. Just in case what, we haven't discovered yet; we just know this is how she sees life.

 The vegetable gardens are in place as a stopgap, with a couple more small ones to be put in. I will build larger ones when the railway sleepers arrive  as the plan is to create a potager style, along with half barrels and similar containers. I know I need to get a move on with at least one more or I will have nowhere to plant my onions!