Breaking Ground

We moved into our new home a week and two days ago. Me, my fiancee' A. and our friend *Harry. *Harry is my younger sister, *Cassandra's boyfriend. *Cass is a teacher up north so they are doing the long-distance thing. So that makes us family too.

A. and I moved here from a two-bedroom unit that we affectionately called

 Fawlty Towers.

Day by day we are shown different sides of this house's personality. It likes old school furniture but enjoys the sound of blaring out of its windows (time will tell whether the neighbours like it too!) 

Over the weekend I picked up a couple of DIY projects from a lawn-sale down the street. A vintage rocking horse for a toddler that I want to fix up for A.'s and my kids. 

For my fairy-garden I bought a round and square shovel and two cultivators which are three pronged rakes that burrow deep in the soil. I was also given small gardening tools, shovels, trowels and car tyres to use as planters. I'm going to plant a small kitchen garden in them. 

As excited as I am about these projects, I am mindful and apprecitive of the sad stories behind that sale, I can't really go into it but basically - our joy had been birthed from the pain of other's grief.

I promised the previous owners these goods would be well cared for and put to good use. Today I broke ground. Literally. There were prickles all over the grass so I gave into the impulse to grab one of the cultivators and dredge them up, I had to be respectful because the tree I was digging under was older than my grandparents and their grandparents - maybe it had been there since the dawn of creation. 

About thirty minutes later I had gouged the grass into a circle - not a prickle in sight. 

And to replace those dreadful prickles, I'm going to plant a garden with bright, happy blooms. Life is coming back to this house after it has stood empty for so long and it's an amazing feeling know it's because of the three of us.