Woodland matters and associated features.
C has been off the walk for a week as Hattie has had her bits nullified, spayed, I know it’s called but not 100% how it’s spelt. So far this year the weather in Shrawley, which of course has a microclimate unto itself, has been utterly shit. Which ironically is what I am going to talk about for this double prompt. People with a nervous disposition should probably look away now, miss out on all the fun and continue their lives wondering, “what if?”
You’ve made your decision and thus have to deal with it, as my sister would say, “suck it up”. In the winter months I rarely venture out into the back garden, in fact since we had Benny, walking out of the front door has become de-rigeur, returning to enter through the front door and drying his paws there. There are three reasons for this:
- N&M come knocking to the front, the bus stop is out the front, the entrance to the woods is out the front.
- The laundry room to the rear is over full with stuff and nonsense, too many coats, too many shoes, too many hats, too many units to keep all the too many things in; its a vicious circle of outdoor apparel we’re trapped in.
- The garden is used by Benny as a toilet and so is a minefield of turds, ready to explode on your sole with the slightest touch.
Now heres the juicy and disgusting bit, don’t be fooled by the pretty picture above, it has no relevance to this post. Since November we’ve had not a jot of frost, the rain has fallen over night frequently and has steadily broken down the turds, softening them into that foul state when it is not possible to pick them up, they spread further than they ever should when freshly laid, making a mess, a real mess. Not of soil, but of deathly smears of horribleness; compounding the situation. But due to the rain and all the previous bullet points the faecal breakdown accelerates into what resembles a Chernobyl type turd reactor meltdown on a vast scale in terms of turd to garden area ratio.
Today, however, I woke up to a glorious frosty and sunny morning, the grass erect like silvery green blades and amongst all of it, the offending mulch. C sent me a text
“Deep joy, poo picking up morning”
As long as I get out before the frost melts as the sun peeks over the roof to spread its rays over the lawn. I’m amazed by how strong and resilient the anti-freezing chemical within Dog Turds seems to be, no matter how strong the frost is, there is always something within, preventing the total freeze which of course would make it easier to pick up the poo frisbees we find spotting the outside.
Wish me luck readers, tell your friends, this and more of the same could be popping up in your inbox on a regular basis.