I decide to weed the garden, it’s a week before Christmas and grass is waist high in the flowerbeds. I like to tidy up before visitors come. Rain is forecast. I ignore it till I feel it penetrate my jeans and I need a coffee anyway. Five minutes into the coffee and my book, puppies on my lap, the sun comes out. It is going to be one of those days.
The pups decide to help me plant some native groundcover with little yellow flowers which I like for its toughness. I work my way through the mulch to the soil and Dot enthusiastically assumes I need help digging, and that the tiny green plant is a weed. It now looks like chewed kale but I water it tenderly. I want to take a photo but there is a clap of thunder that sends us all scurrying for cover. it sounds like hail.
Pat has been out the back putting in garden edging after my mulch spilled over the new Covid -inspired path. He regrets hanging out the washing ten minutes ago. Must be coffee time again.