‘The garden’s looking terrible!’ said my Mum when I went back home last weekend. This is a familiar refrain on my mum’s part but no one else can ever see what the problem is. The garden is complimented by anyone who visits and the front garden once won a ‘front garden of the year’ competition without Mum even entering it.
I found Dad painting the beehive, which isn’t really a beehive but a tool bin made by my Uncle Ian, who isn’t really my uncle but a family friend. I think even Mum would have to admit that it looks nice amid the cow parsley under the trees at the bottom of the garden.