frost

Frost covered the grass when I pulled up the blind in the bathroom this morning and looked out over the back garden.  I wasn't surprised, since I'd had to defrost my car when I set out at half past six last night to go to the beekeepers' monthly meeting.  That went OK.  The turnout wasn't high, but those who did come made an effort to participate, though I think they'd rather have had the lecture about top-bar hives.  The beekeepers are generally kindly, curious and patient people, which is probably why I'm still involved in the society after thirteen or fourteen years.  The magazine of the British Beekeepers Association slightly took the wind out of our sails by publishing a one page crib guide to honey labels in the latest magazine, two days before our quiz and group discussion, but that couldn't be helped.

The frost meant that there was no great rush to get outside, since I couldn't walk on the grass to get access to any of the beds in the back garden, and you can't weed frozen ground.  If I were designing a garden for a keen gardener who was not at liberty to pick and choose their gardening weather, for example somebody with a full time job who wanted to garden at weekends, I would definitely think about providing all-weather access to most areas.  Sweeps of grass look great, and are cheap to construct compared to hard landscaping, but they render great chunks of the garden out of bounds for most of the morning in frosty weather.  The pattern of melting ice as the morning progressed illustrated which parts of the garden catch the sun, and which are permanently shaded at this time of year.  There is starting to be a little too much shade, and we need to reduce the height of the boundary hedge at some point this winter, and remove some low branches from the wild gean.

After lunch I let the chickens out for a run and went on cutting the Eleagnus hedge by the drive.  The hens decided en masse to cooperate less fully than they did yesterday, and disappeared behind the hedge where I couldn't see them, and the fox wouldn't be able to to see me.  I hoped the sound of human activity and the Radio 5 Live film programme would act as a deterrent.  They busied themselves fossicking under the little oak tree for a while, searching for things to eat among the dead leaves.  The rooster is not all that keen on the back garden, and sat on the gravel in the front where he could see me, looking peeved, until I gave him some sultanas.  Then one of the hens frightened herself and ran back to the chicken house, and the rest of them trooped round from the back and spent the rest of the afternoon foraging near the chicken house, where I could see them.

As I added to the pile of prunings along the side of the drive I began to worry that it would end up blocking the front door, which would be rather hard on the post man.  The Systems Administrator was going to have a session with the tractor moving prunings to the bonfire area, but has been struck down with toothache.  Cold air makes it much worse, as do cold and hot food.  Having Googled the symptoms, the SA assures me that these are the classic signs of root canal trouble, and has made a dentist's appointment, but could not get one until Monday afternoon.  In the meantime outside work is off limits, and the piles of prunings will have to remain until Tuesday.