I have one child away and the other has returned to the nest for a few weeks so they are on holidays. I'm living the dream with my self-employment so I'm not really on holidays. I've been trying to finish a painting these past few days and I stood back and looked at it just now and hate it. Loathe it. The idea was good, but the execution has not resulted in anything near what was planned.
The painting can sit for a day or two until I figure out how to do something else with it.
The tomatoes have been repotted because I got a drill for my birthday last year so I can drill holes in anything whenever I want to and a big red pot was sitting around asking for a job, but needed drainage holes. Hopefully the tomatoes will have a growth spurt over the next few weeks and produce some fruit before it gets cold on Anzac Day (you can set your clock to it in #CBR).
There was a ripe smell outside for the past few days and close inspection of the worm farm revealed the source of the stink. Normally the worms and I get along fine but with being away a bit in recent months and being sick lately I hadn't kept up with the cycle of worm life ... all resolved now and the postage stamp garden has been lathered in worm juice.
I miss my previous garden. I've brought cuttings of a rose (originally planted by my mother in her last garden), some violets, lamb's ears and geraniums from it and plonked them in this tiny patch of dirt. It's "cottage" meets "a mad mix". One of the joys of living in the last house was the 1/2 acre it sat on. I've been here four years next week. The golf course is lovely as a front yard, but I need to dig and plant and reap what I sow.
Next house will have a bigger garden and a view of the sea.