on the radio

I experienced an odd moment of connection with my father's younger brother this morning, as I was spreading compost on the sloping bed in the back garden while listening with maybe three quarters of an ear to Rob Cowan's Sunday morning programme on Radio 3.  He was reading out listeners' emails, as R3 presenters are obliged to do nowadays, and suddenly there was my uncle's name, with an observation about somebody Rob Cowan had just featured, who my uncle had worked with.  The name of the musician they were talking about meant nothing to me, but it was a pleasant moment. Generally I find listeners' emails quite tedious, and today's episode hasn't changed that, since the proportion of people listening to Rob Cowan who know my uncle must be infinitesimally small, and the rest of them probably find the reactions of random strangers to Radio 3's output as dull and mildly distracting as I do.

My aunt will not necessarily be amused that I heard my uncle's name read out on the radio, since she believes that music is a serious business that deserves the listener's undivided attention, not three quarters of an ear.  When I mentioned once that I listened to classical music while gardening she fixed me with a stern gaze and enquired Why?  Is it so very boring?

I don't find weeding boring, but in general it leaves enough of my mind free to listen to the radio if I feel like it.  Sometimes I don't, and listen to the birds, or the wind, or don't listen because I'm thinking, but quite often I fancy a background shimmer of music or conversation.  If it gets interesting I can give it a whole ear, and if I hear something I really like I might even make a note of what it is with a view to adding it to my CD collection.  I first discovered Trio Medieval on the car radio, and sat transfixed at the edge of a garage forecourt before filling up because I didn't want to get out of the car until they had finished.

I can't listen to anything while I'm setting out pots in their planting positions.  That requires all of my attention, and the radio is an unwelcome distraction.  This afternoon I planted out the nice little Abelia x grandiflora that I bought at Great Dixter, some seed raised and shockingly pot bound Digitalis x mertonensis, three cuttings of a purple leaved sedum whose name I need to work out from my notes, since all the label said was that they came from the plant at the back of the long bed, and one of three seed raised Digitalis stewartii.  It was my fault there were only three since I over-watered them while they were germinating, but with any luck between the three of them they will flower and set seed and I'll be back to raising them in bulk, only a year late.