One of Those Busy Days

Some days in the hills are quiet and unhurried; others seem to arrive with a long list of things for me to do. Today was one of them.

After a few days of rain, the morning arrived bright and cheerful, as though the sun had decided that these few days of hiding away was long enough. We got down to clearing the pathways. The rain and a few days of staying indoors had allowed the vegetation to make considerable progress of its own. Paths that had been reasonably clear were now beginning to disappear beneath the greenery.

I took out the brush-cutter. Unfortunately, it had other plans. It refused to start. So we fell back on the old-fashioned method – hedge scissors and a fair amount of patience. I have been trying to find a large scythe for clearing the brush by hand, but apparently they are not much in use in India and the ones available online cost a lot. Perhaps the scythe, like the typewriter and the landline phone, is slowly becoming a creature of the past.

Later, I turned my attention to the lawn. During the rainy months, grass grows with astonishing enthusiasm. I prefer a lawn that is allowed to remain a little wild but our guests tend to have different ideas about it, and the children, as well as a few adults who are children at heart, enjoy rolling about on the grass. So, every now and then, the mower has to come out.

These days I use ear muffs while mowing. Today, the moment I put them on, I was struck by how dramatically the world changed. Everything became extremely quiet. It made me realise how accustomed I have become to the sounds of construction taking place all around me. One gets used to almost anything, even noise. I hope that when the building work finally comes to an end, the old silence will return. Perhaps I shall hear the birds again before I hear the machines.

By the time the lawn was done, some people from the horticulture department arrived to put up our new greenhouse. It will be covered with plastic sheet so it is being set up in a area well shielded from heavy winds. I already know what I want to grow there, although experience tells me that plants, like people, have a habit of ignoring our plans. Still I am already dreaming of a bounty of vegetables.

In the midst of all this activity, I spotted a tiny baby mouse near the greenhouse. It was impossibly small and quite charming. There is something about young creatures that makes even the most troublesome species appear innocent. A baby mouse is a little ball of sweetness; an adult mouse can become a menace. The same applies to monkeys. Their babies are delightful, with their bright eyes and tiny hands, but the grown-ups can be very destructive when they discover the fruit orchard. Nature has a way of making all its babies look innocent.

This reminded me to collect some pears before the monkeys got to them. So, we then went about picking some ripe pears. I always leave a few on the trees for the birds and other visitors to the orchard. After all, we humans have an unfortunate tendency to think that everything belongs to us. We fence the land, plant the trees, pick the fruit and then complain when a bird helps itself. In my orchard, there is always something left for the wildlife. Though, monkeys can be extreme, destroying almost all of the fruits if they get a chance.

After lunch, I returned to the brush cutter and tried once again to bring it back to life. I tried various things, none of which produced the desired result. Eventually, I surrendered. I will probably have to make a journey to the service centre the nearby town, where someone with greater patience and knowledge will have a look at it.

A clear day in the middle of the rains also brings its own share of housework. The sunshine is an invitation to wash clothes, air the rugs and carpets, and generally bring out everything that has spent too long indoors. After just a couple of days of rain, even the house seems grateful for a little sunlight.

By evening, the day had disappeared almost as quickly as it had begun. There had been paths to clear, grass to mow, pears to pick, machines to repair, carpets to air, and a tiny mouse to admire. It was, by any standards, a busy day.

And yet, as I sat down at the end of it, listening to the sounds around the house, I felt that there was something satisfying about being busy in the company of trees, birds, rain, and the occasional troublesome creatures. Our resident blue-whistling thrush also landed on the roof, planning to call it a day.

For me, the best kind of busy day is the kind that leaves me tired, but still glad from what I accomplished and the impact it will have in the long run.

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