The Wheelbarrow
By
Jane Goodhew
It was still early Spring, but the sun was shining and the birds
singing. So, time to make use of it and get out into the garden which was in a
very sorry state after a long and wet winter.
In the corner, hidden beneath years of growth and garden refuse, I'd kidded myself was a nature reserve for wildlife, like the resident hedgehog
and anything else that cared to live there I spied the remains of my beloved, but past its prime, wheelbarrow.
Unfortunately, it was rather dilapidated with its wheel missing so not
much use as they were rather hard to replace but, waste not want not. I dragged it out and hosed it down and
already it began to look more presentable after a good scrub and with all the debris
removed. In the shed was an old pot of
paint so out came the sheet which I spread over the patio and placed the barrow
upon it and started to sand it down and then give it a coat of paint. That wasn’t enough so rifling through the
cupboards and finding more pots of unused paint I got them all out and began
with a mural on the sides. Flowers,
trees and fairies floated around the sides and the inside was a vivid green
that rose in layers till it ended in the deepest blue for the sky. Left in the sun to dry I went off to the
garden centre to buy some potting soil, plants and new pots. By the time I
returned my wheel barrow had taken on a new lease of life as the paint had
dried and the mural looked like something from an Enid Blyton book combined
with the Flower Fairies or at least it did to my biased eyes.
Now to decide where to place it before putting in the newly potted
plants to finish off my project. After
some deliberation, I decided near the Weeping Willow overlooking the pond and
near the rustic bench was the perfect spot especially as I had some left over
patio slabs that I could put down for it to stand on and not sink into the lawn
or topple over into the pond. The end
result was just what I wanted so with a freshly made cup of tea I sat down to
admire my handy work and catch the last rays of sun before it left for the day
and listen to the birds sing. Bliss.
Copyright Jane Goodhew
Short Narrative a complement to the season.
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