Mending things

Emerging from the gloom of winter (actual winter), winter (supposedly spring) and winter (supposedly summer), I find myself wanting to mend things. Something is broken and immediately I must set about the task of putting it back together again – or ask someone else to do so.

So far, in recent weeks, with a little help from my friends, family and (shock, horror!) a workman, plants have been planted and pruned; electric lighting has been repowered; the water butt has stopped its leak; a little wooden chair has been re-assembled; the reclining chair now reclines; an old eiderdown no longer sheds feathers; and a window can now be opened and closed.

Each act of mending or having someone else mend a broken item, is a stitch, piecing together the jagged tear of my new life. Lots and lots of stitches to make yet, of course, but it’s almost as good as stopping to smell the roses.