When the Wind Doesn't Blow

My leaf blower/vacuum/shredder won't vacuum!! Which means that there's no shredding, either!! There's a glorious pile of leaves under the willow tree and I can't do a dagnabbit thing with them. Oh okay, I could rake them into a pile and then sweep them off the path and into the garden, where they'd gently break down and become the glorious, glorious mulch their leafy forefathers have become every previous year.

But I love that machine. I've never been so excited about buying a garden tool ever. Or indeed any tool. Ever. Even the palm sander in 1997.

In other news, dinner with the W-Ds and the M-Zs on Friday night. Lots of cuddles from Jean and questions about arrangements for Sweeney's birthday. Delicious curry. The boys' rearranged room to ooh and aah at, which made a great spot for us to have a lie down for chatting after the delicious curry.

I spent simply aaaaages playing with my smooth-skinned nephew and his parents over Saturday and Sunday. Gave him baths, wrangled him into his pyjamas, taught him his next cool move - holding onto a table while wobbling - and provided him with a lovely wooden rattle with a bell inside. His poor, poor parents. Especially now, while he can grab things and shake them a whole lot, but it's still hard to release ...

Getting myself into the headspace for having the little fellow here next week. Reminding myself of Sweeney-friendly meals to put together. Made a tortilla last night that Craig didn't throw in the bin straight away - result!! Attached to the leaf-shredding is a gardening project I want to kick off with him while he's here.

Knitting some lacy fingerless gloves at night at the moment, although I won't be doing that this week - too many things to get set up, tidied away etc before Sweeney's here next week. Did I mention he'll be here next week?? Well, he'll be here next week.

This weekend is a non-Sweeney weekend and that means that I get to be at my house in actual daylight. I'm going to get the leaf blower/vacuum/shredder out and deal with the willow leaves. I'm quite excited. The forecast is for fine weather, so there's no impediment except procrastination or distraction. Both have been major forces in my life to this point. I watched an episode of Make Your Child Brilliant that seemed all about me, and it's kind of inspired me to identify distracting forces and distract myself from them with constructive activity.

Sweeney was ill over last weekend. He's had a few colds in his time, but he's not actually vomited since he was a teensy baby. For the first time in months, I took him into bed with me, and of course this is the event that triggers his first ever Gastric Incident. Poor mite was completely freaked out at what was happening, as well as feeling ever so crappy in the tum. I figure I came close to the land speed record for hosing him down, finding fresh pjs, changing the bed and getting us back to horizontal again.

And repeat. And again. The next morning, he seemed okay, just not that into food or drinks. We went for a walk along the water race around the corner from Mum and Dad's house, fed ducks, went to the park. We saw a white-faced heron, looking all wrong with his long legs for wading and his long beak for fishing, mooching about in the mown grass around a tree. My research this week has turned up that there are simply loads of these birds, but they mostly stay close to estuaries, rivers, bodies of water, and in breeding season, which is now, they nest up trees in pairs. Sweeney was really good about keeping a bit of distance and just watching the heron do his thing until another kid ran up to it and he flew up and around for a minute or so before he settled in the tree itself. Glorious wide wings unfolded for us, then folded back in to his sides. Sweeney kept watching the bird as it took off and flew, and laughed and laughed at the whole thing. Delight.

Saturday night was FREEZING. Sweeney got through the night okay and on Sunday we went up to Huntsbury Hill and stomped around in the snow that'd fallen overnight. Kids were sledding. There's a seat up there in memory of our Uncle Ron, Dad's friend since they were boys in Canada, who died 15 years ago. I got some lovely photos of Dad and Sweeney with snowballs - Sweeney's first ever - and will, when I work out how to do it, get one loaded onto here. Meanwhile, this is not him, and there was not this much snow.