CHAPTER EIGHT


It is Spring and as the weather has been set fair for over a fortnight, we have decided to resign from our cleaning lady and pen-pusher jobs and apply for a part-time garnening post.
We were approved unanimously among blossoming shrubs, flowerbeds,hedges, and even brambles and other sneaky weeds join with the majority and agreed to show no resistance.

So, everyday after lunch we take wheelbarrows, rakes, spades, pitchforks and shovels out of the garden-shed, we put on our overalls and gloves (to prevent scrapes) and here we go !

We have undertaken a mammoth task : to widen and make nicer a tiny brook flowing shyly in the middle of our garden. That means digging the banks which are rather spongy and muddy, cleaning the riverbed ( disturbing the tadpoles and toads : they jump with fright and so do Canaille,my four-legged assitant, and I ! ).

So, last Sunday afternoon after squatting for over one hour by the brook in the shade of a chesnut tree, my back hurt and I went back home  and had a warm shower to relieve the pain. After dinner I was curled up among cushions on the sofa, listening with my hubby to our favourite Sunday evening programme, Le Masque et la Plume.Suddenly my head started itching. I scratched it, but the more I scratched the more it itched. I shivered inside and the word lice
crossed my mind. I didn't want to bother my husband, so I waited for the end of the programme worriedly. Needless to say I can't remember what films they talked about ! As soon as my husband turned off the radio, I asked him to check my scalp.He did it and declared mockingly : " Nothing to declare, move along ". " But it itches awfully !" I replied. He smiled  and said : " I guess you didn't put on your strawhat while working under the chesnut tree, so don't be surprised red bugs have found again their last Summer prey !".
Phew !! Just red bugs ! I couldn't have borne the idea of a louse-race on my head !
I fetched some lavender essential oil from the medicine cabinet, rubbed my scalp with it and the day after the itching invaders had packed up and gone to more hospitable countries.

That taught me a lesson I should remember because I am a worrier and that often robs my body of fuel :

Avoid making a mountain out of a molehill !

The itching episode is over, let's fly to other adventure !