Anyway, I tidied up the herb patch and spent most of Monday admiring the new view from the back window. But then I noticed that I wasn't seeing any sun in that herb patch. None at all. For the entire day. I consulted with Monkey Man (he who knows all about the seasons and sun and just how far the sun extends into the garden at what time of day and what time of year) and I was informed that the herb garden receives no sun during the depths of winter. Not a bit. You'd think I'd have noticed this in the past - I have lived here for almost nine years now, but this was news to me!
This new information caused me to get into a bit of a flap. Why did I just waste my time (and money) cleaning up the herbs and sorting them onto the fence and planting new parsley seedlings and coriander and such if they were going to be sitting in the shade for another six weeks? The only solution was to re-locate them to way up the back along the chook run for winter.
So I did. Once I finished that, I persuaded Monkey Man and a visiting friend to break their backs and move the old laundry trough up the back too. I have plans to grow some veggies in this trough. Once that was finished I was sitting on the slide admiring my handywork when it occurred to me that the peeling paint on that laundry trough was likely to be lead paint. And now it was peeling flakes into my veggie patch. Right near the chook run. This induced another more intense flapping about on my part.
I have been in a lead-poisoning flap before. A few years ago I noticed all of our internal doors were chipping away and desperately needing some attention. But then I realised that they hadn't been painted in many years and that they were most likely covered in lead-based paint. The worst thing to do when you're a bit of a worrier and discover something to worry about is to google it. So that's what I did. By the end of that hour I had convinced myself the whole family was about to die of lead poisoning. I eventually got over that one, painted the doors and haven't worried about a possible lead death. Until now.
Now I have a perfect view from my back window of the herb garden re-located to an inconvenient spot but at least bathed in sunlight. But what I really see first thing as I open my curtains is a flaky, old laundry trough smack bang in the middle of my garden. Just waiting for a bit of rain to come along and wash away a few more flakes of lead and poison my soil, or a gust of wind to come and blow some dust up my nose and poison me and my chooks and my monkeys. Oh dear. I'm going to have to don the mask and scraper and scrape it all off today before I worry myself into an early grave. I'll try not to remember all those dire warnings I googled a few years back about lead dust getting up your nose and fingernails and in your hair and clothes... I'm consoling myself with the memory I'm sure is mine, of a baby standing up and chewing the timber of the cot. There must be thousands of babies born in the late sixties and earlier who chewed the lead paint off their cot. And we haven't all died yet.
Now before you comment today, bear in mind that I am an anxious, worrying kind of person (if it hadn't already occurred to you). And I have already worked myself up into a bit of a state over this one. Consoling, re-assuring comments about how lead-based paint poisoning is all an urban myth, or that there is new medication out now, or that the paint in the picture surely doesn't look like lead and other such comments will all be gratefully received.
|Offending laundry trough|