So we've gone into lockdown for COVID-19. We knew it was coming and had a couple of days notice, so we started to make plans.
On his way to work the day before, Hubby stopped into a hardware store to buy supplies for his planned projects during lockdown. Then he discovered that his workplace is considered essential, so he's having to work. I guess there are three rooms that won't get painted just yet, and finishing off the IBCs in the shelter belts can wait. On the plus side, there's no contact with the public.
First day and I found I was restless fairly early on in the day. So I thought to myself, the rose hips are coming ripe, there's still some elderberries around and I should see what blackberries the birds and drought have left. I should go foraging.
I had it in mind to make some rose hip and thyme cough syrup. If COVID-19 does hit us, it will be useful.
I knew Hubby had sprayed some of the gorse and blackberry, but he did it a few weeks ago. We were well past the withholding period. Anything that was surviving and anything nearby that might have received some overspray should be okay.
Off I went and picked a fair few rose hips, a handful of blackberries and I found maybe 6 bunches of elderberries that I could reach. It wasn't a big haul but there were enough rose hips to make syrup and I could freeze the other berries for use later.
Back at the house, I stripped the elderberries off the stalks and separated the berries into their different types. Then Hubby rang. I told him what I'd done and he freaked out. Unbeknownst to me, he'd been out on Sunday and sprayed again. Some of where I'd picked was where he'd sprayed and since they were all mixed up, I had to throw the lot out.
Best laid plans and all that.
Determined to at least do something that I could call productive, instead I went back to some spinning and knitting. This was interspersed with video calls from family. Granddaughter number two will have a blanket finished by the time she's into a big girl's bed. Maybe by the end of this, I'll be able to walk into my craft room without clambering over piled up big rubbish bags full of washed fleece. Maybe the two and a half fadges and four feed sacks waiting to be washed might get sorted too.
We'll see how we go.
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