On Friday we became the proud owners of three cubic metres of dirt. Then we had to move it uphill to the new garden bed. Mum and Dad are visiting at the moment, and they, the boys and Elf and I formed a kind of bucket-and-ice-cream-container brigade. I finished filling the bed this morning. Winston has been enjoying his new podium and vantage point, leaving massive pawprints in the loam. It was obvious we would have to fence off the tiny seedlings from the crushing weight of the hound. We happened to have a roll of sheepwire, so I have used that to make an ugly but hopefully effective barrier. This evening we planted spinach, iceberg lettuce, spring onions and leeks.
So, yeah, there's a lot of dirt under my nails and I am pretty much the veg expert. Just ask me if there's anything you wanna know. Just try and get those lettuces in before the Hobart Cup.
Winston has been eating apples off our immature apple tree. The boys said they had seen him munching them, and Elf was concerned, but I assured everyone that they must have been windfalls. As we ate dinner this evening, he mooched in with the evidence hanging out of his immense jowls - apple, stalk, twig, leaves and a little bit of branch. Yes, he's eating them off the tree.
Yesterday Rob, Mel and Livvy came over for lunch. It was originally going to be a Photoshop lesson - Rob brought his laptop, but after we spent the best part of an hour talking about football and art, the laptop never had a chance. The term "footy tragic" has been used, but we just love talking about football. Rob also brought with him a fantastic book, Our Great Game: The Photographic History of Australian Football and that set us off. It's still summer, and the season is still some way off, but I think that just makes us keener.
The book is divided into 7 themes, two of which are Joy and Despair. One of my favourite images is from the Melbourne Herald, a cold Tuesday night in 1951. Young Essendon goalkicking prodigy John Coleman is leaving the tribunal after being suspended for four matches for striking, meaning he would miss the Grand Final. Well wishers are grasping for him, trying to console him, but he looks inconsolable. Even though its just football, the drama is so intense that there are similarities to the famous photo of Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald.