upcycling – Widow plus woofs

Considering it’s the shortest month of the year and we’ve only just got through the first week of it, why does February feel so interminably long? One can’t even blame the weather; the predicted snow fall this weekend never arrived and although one wakes most mornings to a covering of frost, the afternoons are in double digit degrees. Maybe the mood dump is down to the unpredictability of being not quite out of winter yet – there’s always a fear that anything you start outside may well be under several centimetres of the white stuff the next day. Still, on the plus side, the dawn runs are simply serene. I can see where I’m going for a start now that the sun gets up a little earlier and the terre has turned rock hard what with the morning chill.

It’s not like we haven’t been busy here either although there was a slight hiatus mid-week when Callum came down with a tummy bug which meant 48 hours stuck in a bathroom, Louis then changing places as soon as his cousin recovered. Luckily, I managed to avoid the queue – I’ve had enough to do sorting out tax stuff for my apartment in Montpelier. The French impôt system is, let’s just say, migraine-inducing. So in order to save the yearly search for a document I don’t remember seeing or one I did and just filed in some dusty corner of a kitchen cupboard, I’m going to sell the place.

Speaking of selling, I’ve been busy photographing all my finished bits of furniture so they can be put online – Callum has promised to sort that out and bring me in some centimes. And of course, having cleared a small part of the workshop, I found a few more sorry souls to fiddle around with. One is a really rather lovely Gothic-style chair which I’m going to keep for myself – Dracula is my favourite book. Restoring such a beautiful piece of history isn’t the only reason why I’ll be garage-side for a while, tomorrow I say goodbye to Giselle as she returns to Toyota and I get a healthy bump to my bank account. As much as I love her speed, I just don’t use her that often and I’m always nervous of getting her pranged (the gate has been behaving of late). There’s enough cars and vans in the driveway for me to use until I find something more suited to dog hair and dirt tracks.

In the meantime, there are some garden jobs that have to be done when one isn’t wielding sanding paper and washing copious amounts of dust down the shower drain- the potager has to be emptied and then turned over before the new season plantings go in. I have been reliably informed that my woeful excuse for winter veggies is not my fault, apparently everyone round here has had a problem with ‘size’. Ergo, all my new seedlings are going to stay in the serre until the month is out. Let’s hope the pleasantly smelling bay leaf and pepper deterrent keeps the ‘dormice’ (Denis also has a problem with sizing rodents) out of there til then. How long is it until Spring?…

“February is just plain malicious. It knows your defences are down.” (Katherine Paterson)

I was absent-mindedly folding Callum’s laundry this morning when a thought struck me as to how normal the action felt. Except that I’ve never folded his laundry, Tony always did it and let’s face it, my son has been looking after himself ever since his dad died. Yet, it was a nice feeling, being ‘mum’ again and taking care of our boy especially as our relationship is usually the other way around – he gives much better advice for a start. Thanks to him, I’ve been in a clearer state of mind over the past week and I no longer have a leaky roof. Mind you, the latter did give me a fright, seeing Callum wandering across the tiles like a beachcomber.

The recent weather could well have something to do with my mellow mood too. The start of February and it’s sunny. Not very warm but if you stand where the rays hit, it’s almost Spring-like. And with us being one month closer to a new season, everyone is busy doing something and I’m back in the garden again having sent off The First Book – the second would have gone with the first but I’ve managed to save several chapter drafts so I don’t know which ones are the right ones so that’ll be tonight’s headache. I’ve finished my kitchen chairs, which I’m ridiculously pleased about, less so regarding the dressing table I’m still working on but outside one must be whilst the sun shines. Of course, anything to do with the pool has had its hiccups, as soon as Denis got in to remove the old liner, we had back to back nights of pouring rain so the bloody thing kept filling up instead of draining out its last vestiges of algae-ridden water. Still, whilst he was deep in wellies trying to fish out toads, I sorted out plantings in the serre which smells lovely by the way – I’m assured that dried bay leaves and peppercorns keep the rodents away.

Speaking of rogue mammals, I took Arry to the clinic on Tuesday for his hydrotherapy session – his first with this particular practice and I have a feeling, his last. The unfortunate new-qualified vet was subjected to 10 minutes of non-stop ‘singing’ – I did warn her if you remember that ear defenders would be useful when she made the appointment, I should have added a raincoat as well seeing the amount of water he sprayed the room with. Life with my crazy german Shepherd is never dull, embarrassing yes but like my incredible son, he knows how to lift the clouds and add sunshine. And he generally doesn’t need me to do his laundry, just towels…

“While it is February one can taste the full joys of anticipation. Spring stands at the gate with her finger on the latch.” (Patience Strong)