And thanks again to Jan, who asked for more Amy Hammond and Windy Bay’s in 2024 and left me thinking and full of ideas!
I’m just about to start the first draft of the next Amy Hammond but one and have spent a lovely week up to my ears in research and found some incredible facts to drive the story. Who’d have thought that you’d have had a vicar complaining about orgies in the street in sleepy old Poole? And, oh, the old pictures are incredible. I’ve always known that my beloved Harbourside was reclaimed land, but seeing the photograph of the causeway they built when they dammed it before they pumped the water out and recognising it as the path I use a couple of times a week whenever I can brought it home to me how much 43 acres of land looks like and explains why it floods so drastically whenever there’s strong rain. My crazy quilt is coming on well too, but there won’t be any clues to a murder in it! I've never murdered anyone in real life, but I won't deny that a few victims have been inspired by people that I won't spoil our days by talking about.
Courtesy of the cold weather, the next Amy is coming into its final stages because it's been too icy for long walks and I’ve been venturing out into the garden to sweep up and give it a good clean and enjoyed retreating indoors and spending the money I would have spent on National Trust membership if it hadn’t been for my daft immune system that means I’m still effectively locked down on new plants and lighting.
It always amazes me how much good a really good move all the pots and sweep up with a stiff broom and some sand sort of clean does to the patio paving and the whole look of the garden and I’m starting to be cautiously pleased with it. Soon, it will be gardening day, which celebrates the day an amazing 9 years ago now when my husband was given six months at best to live and I was so angry with the world that I went out in the freezing cold and tackled it because I wanted to throw things away and cut things back and take my fear and fury out and make something good from it.
The plants I bought then have mostly done well and grown and, as you all know, he’s still here and still stable even though he hasn’t been too well this week, which is always worrying. But it’s been fun watching him coming over all “Repair Shop’ with a couple of resin statues that were blown down in the storms while he couldn’t do the more physical things he wanted to. They’d be proud of him because I can only just see the cracks now and they’ll have happy memories. He’s planning to go over them with my art student daughter’s permanent felt tip pens so I’ve got no doubt that I’ll hardly see them at all, which is a metaphor for life, isn’t it? It cracks and breaks us and we put ourselves back together again and find a different sort of beauty.
I’m sure you’d rather that I got back to work than wittered on, so I’ll finish with a picture of my little garden where the bulbs are coming through and it’s all ready for spring. And believe me, so am I!
Have a good week and take care till we meet again.
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