I trimmed the edges of one of the beds in the back garden. I am not as conscientious about doing the lawn edges as I should be, since keeping them defined is probably the single thing that most makes a garden look cared for. As we were told on a Writtle trip to Wakehurst Place, if the edges are neat most people don't really notice what's going on in the beds, so if you've only got time to do one thing, do the edges. I don't like them too nerdily sharp, since everything else is a bit shaggy, and the odd stem overhanging onto the lawn is fine by me, but there is a middle way between obsessively tidy edges and a marginal fringe of long grass complete with seed heads. I'm trying to find it. Edging a bed each time I'm out there before moving on to other tasks is one way.
As I was shearing a little patch of longer grass under an overhanging rose bush, that the lawnmower had swerved around, I had a close encounter with a toad that has to be the luckiest creature still alive in the garden. Brushing up the grass I'd just cut I found it flattened into the turf. I couldn't see any blood, so gave it a gentle and experimental prod with one finger. It very slowly raised itself up, and eventually hopped away into the safety of the bed. If I hadn't stopped to pick up the fallen grass at that point, and shuffled another pace forward to continue cutting, I'd have knelt on it.
I like toads. I found another later on, that emerged while I was weeding in the gunnera bed. They have such ancient, fathomless faces. If you disturb other creatures they run or fly away, but toads believe the thing to do is to remain very still, presumably hoping you won't notice them if they don't move. I found a couple in recent days while weeding the gravel in the front, pulling up a large clump of unwanted vegetation each time to reveal the toad sitting resolutely underneath. Sometimes I have picked one up to move it out of harm's way, cupping it between my two palms, and when they wriggle they are surprisingly strong.
A space appeared in the front of the gunnera bed. Trying to remember what used to be there, I think a Rheum died in the winter. It was looking pretty poorly last year, and I don't think previous winter did it any good, so 2010-2011 must have finished it off. Rheum die down completely in the summer after flowering, so are not really great plants for the front of a border anyway. Further back it would be easier to hide the gap. The space provided a home for a rather smart Thalictrum I bought months ago at work, which has been hanging around for quite long enough in its pot, and some sad-looking Lobelia I raised from seed last year, which have definitely spent too long in their containers, plus some Geum rivale 'Lemon Drops', also from seed, which are the survivors of a vine weevil attack in the greenhouse. Vine weevils are very partial to Geum (also Primula and Heuchera).
Addendum The grey tabby has had a crooked back and walked oddly for years. We don't know what she did to it, but it hasn't been right for a long time, and now aged 12 she can not longer manage to look after her fur, which is long, extraordinarily crimped, and always charged with static (the sort of fur that sticks to the walls and has to be vacuumed off). Very unpleasant knots had begun to form over her flanks and tummy, and for some days I've been combing these out. She seems to understand I am trying to help, and purrs loudly while also wriggling and tottering around the kitchen table (I do disinfect it before cooking). Today she took a swipe at my hand with her claws, and drew blood along half the length of my thumb. If she could I think she would be one for throwing telephones at her assistant.
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