IT IS NOT AS HOT AS MYSORE

I will explain the title later but it is low 60s F and I have been MOWING the lawn - and finding out that it is time to change strategy.

While I am rambling on here is a picture of two big pots from above with a tip - they can be very heavy when full especially if crocks or stones are put in the bottom for drainage, so, use old plastic bottles and such - very lightweight.

Now back to mowing and the limitations of limping man.

Harry from the farm machinery people has been round and is coming next week to demonstrate a sit-on mower, one to which I can attach a trailer to go and fetch manure. Part two consists of selective mowing - close cut paths and sitting areas where the grass cuttings are removed and rougher areas mown orchard style with mulching or just leaving the mowings on the surface.

There are daffs everywhere but, for all the hybridising and cross breeding and so on the little wild daff shown here is the best, (mind you tete-a-tete flowers for ages.)

The pond is teeming with taddies, thousands of them and tulips are coming out. The Memsahib is brambling away and I have removed the posts and barbed wire from the far end to reveal a dry-stone wall carpeted with moss - beautiful but the wall looks a bit unstable.

Son R in India (hence Mysore) where it is 34C and he has Dehli belly (hence the title of the blog). I sit in the sun here and sip Indian tea and think of him. Funnily enough it sounds like his problems were not caused by Curry but a pizza!

So, to end with a poem - not mine - but from Gael Turnbull who used to live and work near here for a while.

While working in the garden recently, I dug

a small fragment of truth.

It was adherent all over with clay, and must have been

buried for many years, but I recognised what it was almost at once.

At first we kept it on the mantlepiece in the living room,

but it was often embarrassing to visitors and I eventually

put it on my desk in the study, for a paper-weight.

I asked several close friends what they thought I ought to do

with it, but no one was sure. 'Keep it for your children,'

some said, 'It is a great curiosity.' Others suggested

the local museum.

It was too heavy to take with us when we went on out holidays.

While we were gone, someone broke into the house and stole it.

The police said they would make investigations,

and asked me, 'Could you identify it agin as yours, if you

saw it?'

Perhaps. But I am not sure I do want it back. After all,

if whoever it was should have found some use for it ...