boundaries

It seems to be a time for defining boundaries in my allotments.  The other day I tried to move the oversized and rather wobbly table from my shed to the recently acquired greenhouse.  It didn't survive the journey.  I felt increasingly like a murderer trying to dispose of a body, as I dragged and rolled it over to the annexed land, and then partially dismantled it in order to get it in the greenhouse.  Something had to give, it was either going to be the greenhouse glass or the table.  Finally I heard the sound of splintering wood, and I new it was the sound of a table passing over. 

I had become quite attached to it.  I even developed a fondness for its cobwebby underparts.  I particularly loved the evidence of the many years of service on its top.  There are all manner of different paints, and some rather beautiful stencils of fleur de lis, made when someone had resprayed something like an iron fire grate front perhaps. 

I was loath to burn the top, and then realised it would make a good front defence for my heap in progress.  Making the heap is a bit of a balancing act, and things are forever rolling off the top.  With the table top completing the square, the heap's digestive process is contained.  It acts rather like a hernia gauze. 

I was pleased to discover that the fleur de lis pattern is much more visible with the table top in its new place.  I might even add some stencils of my own.