A pile

The long-awaited, and anticipated, 8 cubic metres of wizzbang compost is in the neatest pile. Greg the driver reversed the truck towards the tarp and dropped the black gold perfectly in the middle, without a single clod or crumb spilling onto the gravel. Expert aim.

I did a bit of gentle probing into it today and found heaps of wrigglers below the surface. Perfect stuff.

Of course it will remain there as an intact heap for a while yet, until my buttock mends.

I did too much yesterday in one of those classic situations of only knowing I’d gone too far once I’d gone too far. Ouch. Now I know better, so I shall amend my ambitions from day to day accordingly.

Today has been very quiet and gentle, with quite a bit of cooking because I’m fine when I’m upright, and some lying on the window seat (sitting is most painful) listening to podcasts and watching a couple of videos. One was about Henry David Thoreau, a man I admire enormously.

The cooking? Several loaves of bread (which will be sliced and frozen), a Corsican flan and some special baked beans.

Bean's had a slow walk. Once she was off the lead she ran around like a mad thing, but going along the road she was frustrated to be dawdling on the other end of a lead from her short-striding human.

A surprisingly good day. Life’s good even with a sore bottom.