Crazy Garden Lady

I’ve always been fond of my fine-boned ankles. They look pretty in high heels and I’ll never be accused of having ‘cankles’. They’ve given me some trouble over the years, but nothing like the trouble I’ve had in the last two months.

One busted ankle (and I’m talking very mashed) is a problem. Hard core gardening is nigh on impossible, and general getting around and messing about – pottering if you will – can be on the painful side.

My right ankle was smashed into the ground by 300 kilos of motorbike whilst on holiday in Thailand (and no, I’m not a stupid, irresponsible fat farang on a scooter in thongs n shorts, we had armoured gear up the wazoo, not to mention helmets, it just seems walking boots are not enough protection).

The bruising is quite pretty really, though currently hidden by an aircast, affectionately known as ‘stink boot’.

Wednesday night, my first night out of the village in 6 weeks due to busted right ankle, I headed up to the Big Smoke with CCM and met people, ate mussels and drank fruit beer, and somehow managed to fall off a step and sprain my other ankle.  A trip to the hospital, more x rays, a pair of crutches and installation on the lounge with my foot up.

As you can see, left foot is not nearly as intensely bruised at right foot – though I have hopes the colour will develop over the next few days.  I shall continue my photo essay of bruises if it produces interesting colours.

So, I’m gardening from my armchair at the moment.

This consists mainly of asking CCM to take my seedling trays out into the sunshine and watching gardening programs and getting garden envy.  A lot of the garden programs I watch are English, and while I envy their space and their greenhouses and the gorgeous woodland plants, I surely don’t envy gardening in the snow!