So three Sundays ago I lost my concentration on the leg press and broke a rib or two, okay definitely two.  The first week I toughed it out.  Went swimming, worked and even worked out and it hurt soooo much.  I finally went to the doctor and yep as I thought snapped like a dry twig.  So for two weeks now I have not worked out and man it has been a right pain. I have gotten stressed out and without working out I turned to comfort eating, blowing all my hard work (this is unconfirmed until tomorrow when I bravely stand on the damn scales once more).  Tomorrow I finally get to work out again!!! Soooo what do I do today?  Aggravate my broken rib working in the jungle that is our “garden” (I so use that term loosely) and hurt both my knees.  Just sign me up for a rest home and reserve me that wheelchair!!


That jungle is exactly that every year.  Summer strolls round (or our best try at it! and last year we frigging failed abysmally, let me tell you – it was 8 good summer days and they were not consecutive!!  We kept beating the national rain average – every frigging season, no drought for us we were way beyond soggy into swampy!!),  I never learn.  I get them tidied up and then I let them down and boom summer arrives and hit repeat.  This year I have a full time job so I am going to dedicate some of it to buying mulch and putting in weed mat plus some actual plants in the sadder spots.  I have long suffering roses that have always stuck by me (or their thorns in me – poetic justice?)!  I can just see their blooms slightly ahead of the weeds populating the majority of the garden!!


Image result for images of leg press

Image source:     I have to go with no on this one!!



In the cold winter’s morn

I found I was deeply torn

Between leaving the bed

Or staying in warm instead


The wind hurls hail at the windows

When it might stop, no one knows

Bruises form on the tender blooms

Their remains removed via brooms


Scattered upon the garden floor

Not able to cheer us any more

Dying in a harsh winter cold snap

That has the announcers in a flap


You see, this they failed to predict

So might seem somewhat derelict

Not warning the gardeners of this storm

One foul weather day badly transform


The gardens wrecked in just a moment

Paid to the foul weather in atonement

Paid for weeks of previous wondrous joy

The weather now felt obliged to destroy

Gardening or torture?

This is the garden of my discontent 
The weeds examples of all I can nurture 
Unable to dig deep into the arid soil
It becomes a concrete, defiant clump

But gorse reaches deep into the clump
Shooting into the air and grasping space
Annihilating any life that ventures near
Prickles embed violently into the skin

Abandoned roses reach to the sky
Avoidance of death in the dearth of care
Disfigured forms to take what they can
Garnering their strength against the sun

I had good intentions, images of glory
But age, access and injury stopped me
I now look forlornly out the window 
Only bird activity in the barren land 

In my mind I see it blooming and free
A pleasure to sit in, scent, sight & sound 
Velvet leaves and thorn absent stems 
But opening my eyes slashes that image

Maybe I will purchase a large painting
Cover my window, filled with bounty
So I can look out and pretend it’s mine 
The closest I can come to a green thumb 

Unless you count the bruises from trying
The attack wounds from the roses
The blood dripping into deep crevices 
It is truly barren and how I often feel