One man went to sow...

went to sow a meadow.

Can you believe it has taken me most of the week

with a sore thumb, to get from jungle to desert?

With the weather set fair today,

it just leaves me time to sow my magical mixture  
for the rain expected from tomorrow onwards.

I started this post yesterday.  Today finds me
just like a kid up at sparrow fart on Christmas morning, excited waiting for the...
rain... Rain?  
Yes rain... worrying isn't it?

I worked all day sieving, tilling and stamping (I'm especially good at that!)
And I can't really believe it of myself, I let Ted sow the seeds.

What?

For once, never to be repeated I hasten to add; I bowed to my better judgement
and very, very reluctantly agreed, that my heavy-handed approach, to just about every cotton-picking thing in life just wouldn't do.  The very precise
administering of wild flower seeds, would be far better in the hands of
someone who delights in doing a job as set down by the rules.
As opposed to my 'That'll do!' School of Life carry on.
He worked out the exact amount required per square metre,
even weighed the seed, I ask you!

He walked out one autumn afternoon,
sowing and looking for all the world 
like he'd just stepped out of a 
Thomas Hardy novel.

Yes, I know I'm mixing up me authors,
poetic licence innit.

I sneakily watched from the window,
quality control you understand.

The job was a goodun.

I'm up early in order not to frighten the neighbours
as I do a naked rain dance.