Conversations

 

Enter Bert who comes out with this statement,

I have to say, you shock me.

Me, sewing my knitted blanket,

What point are you making?

It’s a lovely day, and here's you sitting knitting and a ball of stuff to be doing outside.

Well! It’s alright for him. He’s got a new toy to play with – a battery operated lawnmower. He got me a leaf blower at the same time but that’s two seasons too late, or early depending on how you look at it.

When I told Swisser about the leaf blower, I told her I felt a bit guilty about getting it, and she had a lot to say on that subject.

A leaf blower! What’s wrong with a rake and a brush?

I admitted that she had a point. But said,

Have you seen the amount of trees we have? The size of this place? I need a leaf blower as well as a rake. I’d be weeks, months gathering up all the leaves that fall here. And anyway, they all go to the compost heap in the end.

She argued on,

They’re so loud. so antisocial, so unnecessary. I hate them. Bloody men with all their noisy machinery.

I say,

We have no neighbours so won’t be bothering anyone. And it’s the beech leaves* that are preventing wild flowers coming through at my would-be meadow. Maybe if I could get the leaves gathered up in the autumn the orchids and cuckoo flowers would spread and there’d be more orange-tip butterflies.

But I couldn’t convince her. So changed the conversation to another of her annoyances, the volume of tourists that clog up her personal beach at PBT. It’s my opinion that she would be far happier if she lived up a long lane with no-one near her.

To return to Bert and his remarks about me doing needlework on a rare sunny day. I was raging at him but knew he was right. I put down my needles and went outside where I took pictures of the crocus then watered and tidied up my potted herbs.

*Beech leaves can form a tight seal on lawns or low-growing meadow areas which prevent low-growing or delicate wild flowers from growing.