Snowy Sunday

Rarely does it snow in Gembrook, although the older residents tell me it was common in earlier times. When I say snow, I don't mean a few flakes for a few minutes, we get that every year; I mean snow white on the ground. There's snow happening right now, and has been for the past half hour. The flakes, small, larger a few minutes ago, are falling slowly and gently and from a variety of angles, and are melting as soon as they hit the gravel and paving bricks outside the window. Further away, in the garden, a white tinge is building on the grass, discernible because it contrasts with the vivid green of that under the lemon tree where the snow isn't reaching through the canopy.

My plans are in revision. When I finished the numerous household chores that I like to do when Lib works Sundays, I was set to head to Keith Smith's and spend a couple of hours cutting back his camellia stock plants, a project ongoing with an finish target of end August, before the new spring growth starts. It isn't easy work. The section I'm up to has overcrowded plants ten or fifteen feet high growing into each other with no room to move. If rain has fallen the water falls of the leaves, saturating my clothing, as I cut them back to a frame about 4 feet high. I can wear a raincoat, but this is restricting and the water seems to find its way in anyway. The slow part is having to cart all the prunings out of the plantation after one or two bushes have been cut, or the build up on the ground means you can hardly move at all.

It wouldn't be much fun in the snow. But, the snow has stopped. I'll make the bed with fresh sheets and set the fire and get cracking after a bowl of pea and ham soup from the pot I made yesterday. There still should be time after making some headway at Keith's to pick up another trailer load of prunings from Pat A's. I left a lot on the ground there yesterday, which I couldn't fit on the trailer, and there was not enough daylight left to go back. Pat's garden has been a project in progress also these past few weekends and I'm nearly finished, another end of August target.

Pat offered me a 'refreshment' about 5.30 pm and we enjoyed a stubby in her kitchen, talking about the footy and the Olympic games. She's a keen 'Bulldog' fan. She moved into the house about a year ago while she was still working and put her spare time into getting the inside right. The garden was fairly overgrown with rampant wild roses and choisias and fruit trees, so it too has been solid work. She's retired now and should be able to handle the garden once I get it into shape.

Pat seems happier now than she has for years, since the accident when she lost her husband suddenly. He was pulling down a tree with a tractor, around a second tree. It hit the second tree, from which a limb came down and struck his head. They had a big house and 10 acres which, after a brave year determined to stay, she sold and bought my old friend Ida's house. She wasn't happy there, and moved again. It's been a struggle, she was in shock for a long time. She has children and grandchildren, but until she lost her man so unexpectedly, she had never contemplated life without him.

The weather has cleared now with no sign of snow or rain. I'd better get cracking, back to plan A. I bet it'll be cold on the fingers. The thermometer outside says it's 3C.