house and garden

Can’t quite shake myself from a languishment. Not helped by a day of barely supportable humidity, yet it’s noteworthy, even fascinating, that I came most to life outside in Sarah’s garden, even though I did very little creative, just mainly hacking at a lot of kikuyu, and filling in a great hole I’d made months ago, for transplanting the albizia from the courtyard to the back of the garden. We changed our minds after pruning the thing to within an inch of its life, and the regrowth since has been spectacular. I also prepared the ground for mowing the back circle of lawn, while entertaining Courtney with the picking of unripe plums. Perhaps it’s worrisome that time seems to stand still for me as a gardener more than as a writer these days.

Spent much of the morning online, looking at the blogger template, trying to work out how to add links to my site, how to network for comments, how to link within posts, and came away having learned nothing and achieved nothing. The help offered is way too skimpy. I need to be treated like a three year old with learning problems. Take absolutely nothing for granted.

News about a new lad to be looked after. Turns sixteen today, is almost profoundly withdrawn, and attends a special school. Very unskilled, nothing easy about him. Will know tomorrow whether he’s joining the program and if so I’ll meet him next week. Don’t know if he’ll be joining me before or after Chrissy.