Over the weekend I managed to get some movement on the house renovation project.
The neighbour’s lilly pilly is now so fully fruiting that its branches are resting on my roof, filling the gutters with its brilliant red berry-like fruit. Yesterday, I got out the ladder and severely pruned the tree, loping off most of the low hanging branches and digging out the partially composted fruit. When I was done, the side passage of the house was covered with enough of those squelchy staining berries to fill a wheelbarrow. And I had loped enough branches off that I could build a large mound in the backyard.
The other task I completed was moving out most of my stuff from the storage shed (but not sorting it, all the boxes of old computer and camping equipment are piled in the hallway) and replacing it with the skirting boards that had been sitting in the north facing front verandah for the last six months waiting to be processed. There’s space now for an outside couch to sit in and bask in the winter sun.
I enjoyed the work. There’s something immediately satisfying looking at a pile of things that I’d moved from one pile to another. Maybe because I dont have to do it again, at least not for awhile.