Just a mere two years ago, it would have been inconceivable for me to appear in public looking so au natural (ie, scruffy). It suddenly struck me that there are various signs indicating that I am beginning to go native . . . and blend into my new habitat.
- I have dirty wellies in the boot of my car.
- It doesn't seem like a Sunday if we don't have roast dinner.
- I cannot get going in the morning without two cups of tea.
- I would rather have some antique garden urns than new clothes.
- I was discovered clipping out information on the opening times of local gardens who are participating in the National Gardens Scheme.
- I am becoming *somewhat* impervious to the vagaries and extremities of English weather . . . for example:
- I stayed outside until after 9 pm last night, even though it was cold and extremely windy -- all because I was determined to finish planting my new rose hedge.
- Even more shocking: I was gardening all morning, even though it was raining off and on, and even though I have at least three good books which I am hot to read.
- Finally, I actually have dirt under my fingernails!
Will this gardening craze prove permanent, or it just a passing fancy? Who will predict? But stay tuned for the next installment in my rose dilemma.
I need to go plant some bay trees now.