In this wintry period we are grateful to our neighbour for hiring us. She has a piece of work in mind and today we started phase one: undertake demolition of old and rotting shed, using brain, muscles and claw hammer.
We set to work with a will. When I say 'we' I have to admit that the lion's share fell to my lionhearted husband as he spent his time hitting sections of shed from the frame, bit by bit. These split and fell to the ground. I picked them up.
I collected the wood into piles: one for the customer, namely, larger pieces (uprights) that we could recycle as posts for her raspberry cane wire supports, one for the wood recycling skip at our local centre, which is only a mile or so away. The third was the rotten roof covering. We shall find a sensible way of disposing of this, as to my certain knowledge, asphalt cannot be added to the woodpile. And lest I forget - the chipboard floor and roof panels - she told us to allow these to decompose.
Half way our dear lady came out to us with a cup of tea and stories of cats, kittens and life as a Land Girl in World War Two.
We salvaged what we could. The concrete base is fine, ready for the new shed. The good wood goes back to her garden. The rotten stuff gets taken away or breaks down back into the soil.
I hope I can build on her stories for any generation that may come after.
Here's a longer quote from one of my favourite poets, T S Eliot. From his wartime Four Quartets, the closing lines of The Dry Salvages
"...And right action also is freedom
From past and future also.
For most of us, this is the aim
Never here to be realised;
Who are only undefeated
Because we have gone on trying;
We, content at the last
If our temporary reversion nourish
(Not too far away from the yew tree)
The life of significant soil."
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