The snow is lingering into January and I’m feeling weighed down with dark thoughts. I’m really not myself at all. Cooped up here, unable to work in the garden or travel further than the supermarket, I’m spending far too much time locked in my own head – always dangerous!
Last week, I was talking to my sister on the phone and she made a passing comment that she thought I was becoming too self-reliant. I needed to get out more. Usually I can laugh off Val’s criticisms, but for some reason, this one struck home. And it’s still niggling at me a week later.
I’ve always prided myself on being independent – but I’m starting to wonder if my determination to do things on my own might be working against me. Perhaps it’s time to move back to London where all my friends are. Maybe I can’t hack it here, after all.
In the meantime, the apple trees are bugging me.
I know I should be pruning them but I haven’t the first bloody clue how to go about it. The books say you should take care not to prune too hard, so I’m terrified to even start in case I cock it up completely!
A week later
The woman who runs the village post office mentioned I was looking a bit peaky. Was I coming down with this horrible flu that was going around?
I confided that actually, I was suffering from a bout of cabin fever.
She laughed and we got talking. Her name is June and when I told her about the apple trees, she said her husband was good with things like that and maybe he could help.
So the upshot was, they came over on Saturday afternoon and Ray, her husband, gave me a pruning lesson. Better still, it was actually far easier than I’d imagined!
They stayed for supper, we had a great evening and I’m invited round to a Burns Supper at theirs next week.
This morning I woke up feeling more like my old self again.
The snow had finally gone but there’d been a hard frost overnight. I got wrapped up and took a walk round the garden.
And at the foot of a damson tree, I laughed out loud in sheer delight. The first snowdrop was just poking through the soil …