The Rites of Spring or Back to the Fuchsia

Spring sprung. The sun came out and I wandered into the garden to see what was doing.


It was pleasantly warm so I hung the washing out for the first time this year, and the cats were prowling around. As often happens in these circumstances I idly pulled a few weeds out - then found myself hacking away at the Fuchsia of Doom that's trying to take over, and 'pruning' some of the stragglier bushes. I don't really know what I'm doing so it's all very Darwinian in my garden I'm afraid. I should probably point out that these plants were here when we moved in so I'm not sure what some of them even are, hence the sightly cavalier approach to pruning. I take more care with things I've planted myself, though it has to be said not with significantly better results.


Then the Boy came home from school and went for his first bounce of the year:

We're lucky that our trampoline survived the gales - our friends over the road have a similar-sized trampoline that looks as if it's not in Kansas anymore and is just a huddled wreck of metal and shredded net, though fortunately without a witch's stripy tights sticking out from underneath. Actually I'd be tempted to add some if I were them!