Calling Sisyphus, calling help

The mess to clear out

sigh.

I don't think I am going to manage this one by myself. It's not that I am losing courage (well, maybe just a little), it's the time. I need this area to put my hydrangeas from the little entry courtyard, and I need to move them -- along with the camellia -- for the work beginning Monday.

I hadn't really looked at it very carefully before. It's mostly dead and what is still alive is full of brambles (do they act like poison when they pierce your flesh? I have a strange ache in the muscle of my left forearm, and I am hoping it's only from the pruning shears!) and tremendously, horrendously, obscenely overgrown. As I pull it down and cut it up for the burning pile, light penetrates for the first time since I have been here.

It also opens up a view from the netherlands of our neighbor's garden into our pool area, over the wall. I'll get some trellis from Florosny to extend the wall in height, and then I can grow stuff up it behind the hydrangeas.

Back to my misery, made worse by Nadal playing against Beck at Wimbledon.

Which means I am not getting Sam's help anytime soon.
....