Hoovering the grass – 27 November 2021

Just like hoovering the living room, but better fun.

Last night Storm Arwen dropped a bundle of leaves in the front garden, a big bundle! I think it was the way the wind was swirling round the houses that caused a mini whirlwind which gathered all the leaves then when it ran out of energy it dropped them in the front garden. First task today was to gather them together and dump them in the bin. Luckily, a few years ago I got Scamp a leaf blower for her Christmas. When she cuts the grass, she uses it for blowing all the grass cuttings off the path and into the wooded area across from the house. It came with attachments that turned it from a blower to a ‘sooker’. I used it in ‘sook’ mode this morning to hoover up two black bags worth of leaves from the garden. As well as sucking the leaves up, it also chops them up, so we now have the garden refuse bin full of chopped up leaves. Some of it will go into the compost bin when I’ve time to decant them. It seems a shame to just chuck them out when they could be helping to make compost. With the path now clear and most of the garden holding only a sprinkling of leaves I reassembled the machine back to a blower again and it went to sleep in the cupboard again, dreaming of blowing grass again (not that kind of blowing grass 😉) .

After the ferocity of yesterday, today was a welcome relief. Just a quiet, cold Saturday. The furthest we went was a walk to the shops to get a chicken for tonight’s dinner, and, of course some ice cream cones, 99s. The shops were really busy. I don’t think people wanted to go far today because it was just above freezing and there were hints in the forecast that snow wasn’t out of the question, even to lower levels. Luckily none of the white stuff has been seen yet.

We watched an embarrassing special broadcast headed by Boris explaining the new procedures to tackle the latest Covid variant, Omnicron. Neither of us can understand how that man got into the position he is in. When reading from a script he is bearably literate. As soon as he goes off script he just rambles into unfinished sentences. The poor man is totally out of his depth and really should admit it.

PoD was a little Cyclamen battered and bruised from last night’s storm. I photographed it in the back garden this morning when the sun was shining and the temperature was just above zero.

Tomorrow we may go for the messages, just to get out of the house and I might remember to book a Tesco delivery too!