After the disappearance of the arachnid population (where do they go? Do they die? Go underground?) I should have taken the opportunity to put the garden to bed for winter. Take down the tomatoes and clear the other vegetables, clear out as many weeds as possible, lay some newspaper down and cover with bark chips to keep the weeds suppressed until the spring.
That was the idea. But come November 30, this happened.
I could count on two hands the number of times it has snowed in London at all during the winter, since the time I've lived here (20+ years). I could count on one hand the number of times it has snowed heavily at any time during the winter. And this is November, mind. That requires no hands to count on, in my memory.
This particular snowfall didn't fall just one day. The week was so bad, I couldn't actually make it to work on the Thursday. Train companies, you see, just cannot deal with this amount of snow here (perhaps a foot). Thankfully, Friday was a day I had booked off.
So the best laid plans for garden tidying were scuppered, and December never really improved, in terms of gardening.
Went too fast. Suddenly I was packing to visit my parents in the Midwest.
So here we are again, it's March, and time for a clean-up. Spring cleaning, ugh. I could have made my life so much easier with just a little work in late Autumn.
The good news is Ginger has forgiven me for abandoning him for a full two weeks.
In fact he's just been making himself busy getting ginger hairs all over my black trousers. Again.
Somehow he seems to have managed just fine; in fact when I saw him, I thought, "hey Mr. Whiskers, you're looking rather chunky."
I wonder what they fed him?