This compounded by the amazing amounts of rotting leaves that the huge weeping willow, itself dangerously rotten, constantly dropped. There was a small shed at the rail bed end with a particularly unappetizing roof of corrugated fiberglass originally erected to protect a heating oil tank from the elements. The ground everywhere was soiled with tinted plaster, dead mortar, dead sand, putrefying sawdust. A sad heap of sand gradually experienced a continuing rise in catshit content.
Years ago Robert siphoned out the filthy fuel oil and took the tank to Mas Maury for scrap. Last year I finally demolished the horrid shed and built a wooden one on the opposite corner of the yard. Step two was the massive pruning of the willow, so severe it momentarily left Mrs Snoutworthy in tears. This filled the whole yard shoulder deep in willow waste until Passedat's guys carted it away. The whole of our next sojourn, earlier this year, I looked out my window at the now-elegant willow which had grown out beautifully wondering what to do with all the rest of the junk. Some I carted off to the dump in the Kangoo
The idea had been to save money by building the little wall myself. But so out of shape have I become that I strained my shoulder just rooting around for the first layer of stone from among the piles of rubble left over from construction.
In the end, it proved a lot easier to watch from a safe distance. The Passadat crew ripped through the the project, getting rid of the piles of waste, building the wall, laying irrigation tubing, installing anti-weed fabric, planting and laying cobblestones in 4 days.
I still rub my eyes in disbelief looking at Passadat's great work through the beautiful gate that Didier, Karim, and Philippe collaborated on. What happened to the junk pile? How did it all go so fast? What will I do when the bills come in?
