I am covered in it. Well, not strictly true as I had a shower, but in my head I am. And I am still plastered in bloody nettle stings. Gardening. Gah.
Injuries and filth aside, Mr WithaY and I had a very constructive, or possbily destructive, morning in the back garden.
I finally got rid of the freaky rosebush, which was a relief. I bought it a few years back for its gorgeous pink heavily-scented flowers, thinking how lovely it would be in the back border where I could see it from the kitchen.
Bloody thing was miserable as hell in our garden. First year it was ok-ish, then it sulked for a year and produced about 5 flowers, and then it had reams of hideous freak roses.
They were like something out of a horror film. There'd be a normal flowerbud, but once it opened, a second, deformed, warped stem would grow out of it with a horrible little troll rosebud on the end.
I cut them all off and burned them, and that was pretty much that for the whole plant then. It got sicker and floppier until today I decided to put it out of its misery.
It's gone to a better place. (The green bin. Too freaky for the compost.)
Also slashed and burned (well, composted) huge amounts of nettles, bindweed, feverfew, buttercups, dandelions, mint and a load of balm (by accident).
Mr WithaY rather startlingly built a frog house out of old roof tiles he found somewhere, and is hoping a frog or two will move in. He's still referring to any particularly wild and dreary areas of the garden as "habitat", and pretending he is making it like that on purpose to attract bats.
Or was it lizards?
Anyway, creatures of some sort. I covertly pull the more obvious weeds up and hope he doesn't notice.
Other news: Made some fab carrot and fennel seed soup which we had for lunch. Mmmmm, soup.
And scones, so we had a cream tea this afternoon. With clotted cream and strawberry jam. What fat greedy pigs we are. Hurrah.
Played my new guitar for an hour this afternoon. It's just superb. Did Tom Petty's "Mary Jane's Last Dance" and it sounded pretty good, though I say so myself. Am very, very pleased with it.
Despite making the depressing discovery that I sound like a bloody folk singer, regardless of what I sing, thanks to my freebie recording software. Arse.