a day of rest

Yesterday truly was a day of rest. The first one in weeks, I think.

Starting out with gardening in the morning, we had breakfast around noon. Whenever I am out, doing something in the front garden, many passers-by comment on the flowers. I usually get lots of compliments, which of course I like. My seemingly wild and hurly-burly approach to assorting different plants is met with much approval by those passing on a regular base.

Yesterday morning I was presented with a particular nice comment. An elderly lady walking up to me, while I sat on the ground, pruning grass around my roses, thanked me for all the work. She herself is not much of a garden person, she just likes to look at it, she said. But her husband used to be very fond of gardening. Unfortunately, he is now too old (or sick – she didn’t elaborate) to do it any longer. All he’s able to manage nowadays, is taking short walks. And he always wants to come round to my little patch to have a look at it. I thought it very charming of her, to let me know.

But back to the resting bit. After breakfast I retired to the garden sofa with the newspaper. I think I managed to read one headline – what exactly it said escapes my memory – before falling asleep. Only to wake up hours later to some wind and lots of sneezing. Plus a very runny nose. I’ve been through some packs of handkerchiefs since and might be coming down with a summer cold.

Maybe I should not have had this day off. Once one stops doing, what one does, suddenly an ailment kicks in. I suspect, otherwise, one would just forego it.