It seems hard to fathom after a grey day of cold rain, dressed in my parka, that this time last week it was beautiful out. Nearly 20 degrees! In March! For about a week! The drying out was mighty. Lots of pottering in the garden was done, so consequently less tidying to be done come bedtime. That means good moods and good sleeps all round. Winner!
So although I didn’t set us up at the outdoor table just yet, as it was still March, there was plenty of eating out done.
Too busy for breakfast indoors – dry toast eaten under a blue sky and the watchful eye of a local cat. She’s not one of ours, acts like she is though.
I’ve just realised how odd our garden looks with our ugly breezeblock wall, strange cats, wilted plants, half hearted pots, and Sheela Na Gig overlooking the whole show. At least I can always rely on the hydrangea (far left) ready to burst in to bloom any month now, no matter how neglected.
(The wilted plants are this years indoor hyacinths, ready to return to dust and from dust they shall return next spring. The ferns are struggling, but I think they’re going to make it. The pots hold ignored baby carrots. And the grass is threatening to take over if I don’t do some weeding soon)
So it’s no surprise that we couldn’t spend all the sunny days in my shabby little back garden so we set off to Howth, land of seals, piers, boats, buskers, traffic, chips & 99 ice creams. He spent a good half hour running around the playground sometimes climbing on equipment but mostly excitedly pointing out the aquatic themed inlays in the rubber surface. Then after one collision with a bigger boy, we took a nice stroll along the pier pointing out rocks & boats – that took a while – and then mama needed some sustenance. I had a food packed for Dominic in anticipation of my carb fuelled lunch, but I think his dada explained the notion of “chippys” from the chipper while I queued inside so snacks were mainly ignored. Needless to say, he took to them fairly well noshing down in between collecting daisies for (‘auntie’) Paula who was with us. He burned off some of his carbs dancing to a trumpeting busker. I didn’t, I washed mine down with an icecream.
Sometimes, it’s the simple things in life…