Spent a pleasant hour and a half sweeping up leaves in the back garden yesterday afternoon. I gathered together a big bag of mixed leaves and grass residue, as I used the scarifying rake ( the one with lots of thin metal tines) over the lawn. The end result was a pleasing combed over effect for the grass, which is much too long and unmowable due to the damp.
Why do you suppose I find the simple chores in the garden so much more enjoyable than those in the house? I can't imagine blogging about hoovering the stairs, for instance, or washing the kitchen floor - and don't even think about cleaning the bathroom. Yet they have the same elements of not thinking very much or allowing my thoughts to drift as I labour.
Admittedly, it was a beautiful autumn day, with reddish golden light falling across my west facing garden and gradually turning rosy as the sun went down. But I could have enjoyed that from the bathroom or back bedroom upstairs.
I suppose the air was crisp and cold, making a pleasing contrast with the hot cup of tea I sat and enjoyed half way through my task. And it helped to clear my head, which has been somewhat stuffed up with cold this week.
Maybe the difference is that indoors tasks have to be done week in week out merely for maintenance of reasonable living conditions. Or perhaps I just have to adopt a different philosophy towards housework, after all there is satisfaction in restoring order indoors as well.
But don't worry, I'm not about to start writing about the household stuff as well!