Proceeding Apace

Another day, and the work to make room for the new garden shed continues. Necessitating much hefting about of heavy objects. And removal of growing things like hostas, heucheras, columbines and Viper's bugloss. Just as well that the excavation of the rich soil that had surrounded the base of the 'Three Graces' garden was transported to the front of our lot, expanding another existing flower bed, and that is where they were transplanted to.

Alas, another tree was found to be expendable in the greater interests of acquiring adequate room for the new shed. Our sole plum tree. Which, fact is, was in its dying throes, in any event. Due to the fact that four years ago the entire tree had inexplicably fallen over, its trunk lying almost perpendicular to the ground, its branches dense with ripening plums. The result of an unusually violent storm.

My husband had propped it back up, hoping its roots would somehow reassert dominance over the drenched soil. Seemed it was not to be. Over the next several years one limb after another slowly expired and had to be removed. Until finally, this spring, with the removal of yet another limb, only one remained. The tree produced few blooms, and there were no nascent plums in evidence.

Its loss could be taken in stride. With its removal that corner of our backyard that once hosted a mature apple tree and the plum was devoid of trees, left only with shrubs and perennials. Actually, that very corner was devoid of any growing things. Beside the now-cleared area was our nicely maturing corkscrew hazel and behind and beside it several tall, weary-looking junipers that had once been background to the Three Graces.

And then it was decided that the stone bench that had sat for so many years under the plum tree would also have to be moved. Presenting another kind of problem, sheer dead weight. The bench came apart in three pieces; the two uprights and the top plank. The uprights themselves were heavy enough, but were moved by my husband using his trusty dolly. The top plank another story altogether. Too dense and heavy for one person alone to move.

On came my gloves, and quick came his instructions with the dolly. Between us we managed to manoeuvre the top onto the dolly, and my husband set about tying it into place, then trundling it to the front gardens. Where the uprights awaited it. Lying the dolly down, untying the top, the conundrum was how to move the heavy piece to its waiting rests? We would both pick it up, I insisted. Too heavy for me, was the response.

He meant to single-handedly pick up one end, somehow get it on the first upright, then attempt to do the same with the other. No, I insisted, we'll see if we can together lift it. As we had done almost ten years ago with another, very identical stone bench that now stood downwind from this one. Skeptical of my strength, he agreed, and together we lifted that thing and set it onto its bases.

I'm no ornament, although the stone bench, utilitarian though it is, is ornamental. We may be heading to 73, but we're hale and healthy and capable.