Yes, I’ve been moving slowly along and have had a 100% increase in the membership of the movement, The Slow Gardening Movement, which is soon certain to become an international grouping of like-minded gardeners. The future is ours, the unhurried, the leisurely, the sedate, the slow-going, relaxed and gentle gardeners; the past is for the rushers and dashers, the impatient and the restless who are now sooooo passé. Pffffff!
Today was another typical slow day in the garden. The petrol-powered strimmer had developed a problem which needed to be remedied – a nut and bolt, which held the “accelerator” part of the equipment to the pole part, had somehow or other been lost and this important controller was in danger of falling off, being unworkable or some such disaster. Of course, the original nut and bolt were long gone – probably in the long grass with the driven gardeners – and I needed to source a replacement. The big box in the garage holds all those odd bits and pieces “which will be useful one day”.
It took a little while to navigate my way through all the bits and pieces – the spare electric fuses for a house which has those trip switch types for over forty years; the collection of plugs “rescued” from various past house appliances; the wide selection of hooks, nails and screws bought for hanging pictures now redundant, but still valuable in some way, as there is a preferred sticky method which consists of velcro and some sort of gluey gunk. There is a good selection of drill bits, wood, metal and stone/cement for a drill no longer operational; but, but, but…success: I found a nut and bolt which did the required job admirably – not perfectly, but admirably!. Those who can do such jobs perfectly really need to get a life, to take more time to smell the flowers, to lie on the grass, to soak the sunshine.


I was buoyed up a little by this success, quite an achievement, really, and decided I’d cash in on my luck and see if the engine might actually start. You know how it is: the first starting of the year of any petrol engine is a moment of stress and, let’s face it, more than likely destined for failure. But, I was on a high and, though I didn’t really need to use this strimmer, I was feeling upbeat after the success with the nut and bolt and just wanted to continue my winning streak. To keep the account short, there were repeated pulls on the “recoil pull starter” (I Googled that so as to have the correct term!) but stopped when my neighbours shouted across, from all of 50 metres away, asking that I moderate my language as the children were outside playing in the garden.
A few moments of re-centering, some time in the downward dog yoga position, a few kicks at the strimmer and calm was restored. The strimmer was returned to the garden shed with threats that I would win next time round. It wiped the grin from its air vent, struck a pose of being suitably chastised and we parted more or less friends again.



A griselinia and holly hedge threatened to engulf the small shed which houses our water supply system and I spent the afternoon cutting it back – a bushman saw and large pruning loppers job – and, afterwards, shredding the resultant material and adding it to the compost bin. This was all done in a leisurely and pleasant manner. After all, there was no petrol-engine involved!
The day finished with a little while around the garden with the camera, always a pleasant time.
The membership? Yes, a friend in Cork (Mary O’C) confirmed her membership of the Slow Gardening Movement today and that’s a 100% increase! We are moving slowly along. New members are always welcome!



Anyone who can photograph butterflies is a hero. Damn things won’t pose!
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I was in the right spot at the right time and the butterfly posed obligingly. The white one is a female Orange Tip, I have been told.
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