The weather is perfect, so get outside to acquire a natural bronze glow that won’t streak when you squeeze out tears of joy at the beauty that you have wrought. Beware of the gardener’s tan, when sunshine reaches only your rear elevation whilst bent over weeding. Protect your skin when exposing your pasty body to the elements, even if the soil does adhere to your sticky extremities. Ill chosen shorts/shirt combinations may result in piebald tide lines delineated by muscles and possibly winkles. Make certain that your front catches some rays with some mowing, pruning or exposure face upwards on a reclining chair. Drink plenty of water if nothing else is available.
Crocus & double primroses
Lifting heavy kit can save you a fortune in gym fees whilst toning bits that you didn’t know you had. I didn’t own a trailer when I started gardening professionally and used to lift the petrol mower onto the front seat of my car, for guerrilla grass care all over the district. After six months of doing this on a daily basis, the resulting shoulder development was akin to Stallone on steroids. My arms joined my ears in a hard wedge of might which made me a feared contender, wherever bargains had to be fought for.
Frog spawn & parent in the pond
There is no reason why your partner should miss out on your new regime. Why should they snooze under a Sunday newspaper when you are busy honing yourself for their profit? Plenty of work with secateurs will strengthen your fingers and give you a Ninja grip of steel. Insert your digits into any available orifice and grab the face of your spouse as you would a ten pin bowling ball. Walk forward as if dominating the skittles with your determination and drag your hapless cohort behind you. Release them on reaching the task that needs their immediate attention and dish out relevant instructions. I find that chopping the air with a pair of well oiled hedge shears is a useful ploy for encouragement. Rev up a chainsaw for really recalcitrant cases.
Narcissus “Pink Silk” (pink trumpet daffodils)
Spare a thought for the neighbours; if I went digging in the front wearing a swimsuit, I would be slapped with an Anti Social Behaviour Order and rightly so. In a previous, very private garden, I cut down and dosed with weed killer some forty sturdy sycamore saplings, wearing the briefest of garments. After four hours under a blazing blue sky, I had caught the sun in some of my favourite places. I had difficulty standing or walking and especially, I couldn’t sit. Underwear was out of the question. Basil interrupted my cup of life saving tea to hand me a month old note, inviting parents to the open evening at school that night. Excuses for non-attendance had to be boiler plated, bomb proof and utterly watertight and I couldn’t bear telling anyone that I was suffering from acute burnt bum. The principal greeted us with patronising finger wagging and a rictus smile of forced jollity. I was thus able to shake her hand without knickers or shame.