Grounded

Many years ago I read that a very elderly Duke of somewhereoranother, who was a keen gardener had commented that "the Good Lord made the ground three feet too low."
How right the noble gentleman was! I didn't fully appreciate the comment at the time.
But now that I have reached the age of four score summers, I fully appreciate his Lordship's wisdom.

I am not, by nature, a Percy Thrower or an Alan Titchmarch follower, but I do like to see the borders tidy, and the grass cut, so that I can sit back in my deck-chair and pursue my particular interest in matters horticultural. That is; "watching plants grow".
It is a fascinating study; If relaxed, with a gin and tonic, I find that azaleas grow at the same rate as they do when I have a whisky and dry ginger. But even more interesting; if after 2pm, I have consumed red wine at lunch time followed by a small Cognac, the azaleas exude some form of anaesthetic which sends me off into a gentle sleep.

But,I digress.
As I say, I do like to see the grass cut, and fortunately there is a chap who lives not far away who has been on sickness benefit for years with a bad back, who willingly cuts my lawn for a large fee in cash, or does any heavy work about the place. But he won't do flower borders, as they make him sneeze, so I have to do my own.
Well, I used to until last spring. I had managed to get down on my knees to plant a few pansies, and after I had inserted half a dozen I attempted to stand up get some more - but I couldn't! My limbs had stiffened, and there was nothing in the vicinity to hang on to haul myself up.
My only choice was to crawl along the garden path until I could find something to grab on to. Of course as soon I moved along on my hands and knees the blasted dog ran out, started to bark and lick my face, and on hearing the noise, the baby next door began shouting "Look Mummy two bow-bows!"

I'd had enough of that caper, so I got my chap with the bad back to dig up my borders and turf them over.
I shall now specialise in the relative speed of grass growth, as influenced by various beverages.

But I certainly appreciate what that ancient Duke of somewhereorother meant by stating that the Good Lord made the ground three foot too low.