I’m exhausted. I worked outside in the front yard, raking and cleaning up the dead plants we never got around to tidying up last October. What with all the worrying and hospital trips, the last thing on my mind was, “Hmmm, I wonder if we de-thatched the lawn?”

We didn’t. At least until today. All those little maple keys sticking straight up over the ground with stalks burrowing down into the ground below. Poor little buggers, I raked a bunch of them up. I cleaned up the dead stalks around the front garden, never got to the side yet. It’s a beautiful sunny day with a slight breeze. You’d be chilly of you’re just sitting around with no coat, but if you choose to garden and rake briskly whilst wearing a black t-shirt, you will become like me at the moment.

I’ll interrupt this entry with an editorial message before Ron reads this and insists I correct any false impressions, meaning that at this moment, and every nice and not-so-nice day where possible, that it is he that does the bulk of the gardening work outside. Yes dear, you are right.

Want a jaunt round the garden? Yesterday in the cold and dreary grey mist, I took a bunch of close-ups. In a week or so, I’ll take more for comparison.