I have been making good progress weeding the bed by the oil tank. The shrub planting pre-dates the tank, since we discovered when we had the new condensing boiler fitted to replace the hated Stanley that under the latest building regulations we were obliged to get a bunded tank, and that it had to be further from the house than our existing one. It was lucky that there was space to tuck the new tank in behind an existing Mahonia x media 'Winter Sun', a white flowered Japanese quince, and some coloured stem dogwoods, which screened it pretty well from the outset.
The shrubs are underplanted with hellebores, which are just coming into bloom, hence my desire to get the bed neat and tidy in time for one of its peak periods of display. It is not the easiest bed to weed, partly because it is normally surrounded with a picket fence to stop the chickens from straying down the side of the wood when they're let out for a run, so if you notice a few weeds, you can't just step in and grab them but have to undo the fence panels from their supports. Also, the Cornus sucker and layer themselves, so that there's not much space to wriggle in among them, whilst being very careful about your eyes. Their sideways growing, slender and supple young twigs are among the best I know for sliding in behind spectacles and scraping the unwary eyeball. And while the Mahonia is a wonderful shrub, a valiant strong grower whose yellow flowers before Christmas are beautiful, the dead leaves are hard and prickly and almost as unappealing to handle as fallen holly leaves.
By the end of this afternoon I'd almost finished scooping Mahonia leaves out from among the hellebore stems, and pulling up goose grass seedlings, and next time I'm out there I should be ready to get a bootful of manure and mulch the bed, then I can put the chicken fence back up. The chickens could see me working near their run, and were not impressed that on a nice afternoon they were not allowed out for a wander, to eat grass and scratch up worms and insects and do all the things that temporarily free range chickens do. I had cleaned their roosting board and put fresh sawdust in their nesting box, but they were not impressed by that. They wanted to go for a walk.
Before I could do any of this I had to go grocery shopping, since the Systems Administrator's cold has taken a turn for the worse. The SA mentioned a fresh sore throat yesterday morning, but optimistically put it down to sleeping on his back and breathing through his mouth. By dusk the sore throat was accompanied by a new outbreak of running nose and general sense of woe, and by evening the SA admitted defeat, and we had to miss Miles Jupp's sell-out gig at the Arts Centre, which I had tickets for. I did feel a selfish twinge of regret that if the SA had admitted to being that poorly earlier in the day then I might have found someone to take the tickets, or even go with me, since the SA went to bed at eight and wouldn't have missed me. I'm not sure that is the response of a really nice person, but it's hard to be really nice all the time. Congratulations to everybody who is, and the rest of you can take comfort in knowing that you are not alone in your human frailty.
I made celery and cheese soup for lunch, using some of the chicken stock out of the freezer, which is supposed to be good for colds. You slice the celery very thinly, simmer it for a long time in butter, cook in stock, add some milk if you realise you haven't got enough stock, flavour with a generous splash of fresh lemon juice if you fancy the idea and have a spare lemon, and pour it over some grated cheese in the bottom of the bowl. For supper we are having another chicken, on the basis that it is comforting, digestible, provides useful leftovers, and I know how to cook it. And a lot of vegetables. I'm sure that vegetables are good for colds. My normal high level of respect for the autonomy of the individual has taken a back seat, and the SA is under strict instructions to keep warm, and go on taking it easy for at least a couple of days after starting to feel properly better, instead of setting off for long walks in the cold. The SA agreed to this very meekly, a sign he is truly not well.
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