Today I treated myself to a decorative rose arch (for ornamental purposes only) for my garden. It`s something I have always wanted and today I gave way to temptation when I saw one in a shop in town, for what I perceived to be, a reasonable price. Before I realised, I had bought it and was happily walking back to my car with my new purchase tucked under my arm. The dimensions displayed on the box told me it stood 2m high which by my reckoning meant it was of substantial proportions and not a squatty little structure I had seen in other stores. I was delighted and eagerly looking forward to seeing it in my compact garden.
But life really isn`t that simple, is it? I had refused to acknowledge one or two important factors:
1. My garden, well stocked and beautiful as it undoubtedly is, is not of mammoth proportions. Optimistically, I would say it is fifty feet long and forty feet wide, give or take a few inches.
2. I am absolutely hopeless at constructing anything requiring the tiniest amount of brainpower. Even with an "idiots` guide to the simplest task", I fail miserably. My brain just does not function that way!
So, here I was, sat in my den, box at my feet, enthusiasm in my heart. My eleven year old son was going to aid me in the erection of my latest ornamental decoration. I lectured my son on the importance of staying cool, calm and collected. It simply wouldn`t do to get hot tempered, impatient and frustrated if things did not go according to plan throughout the construction process. We could do this, and would do it together. How difficult could it be?
A vague, sketchy directions note slipped out along with ten thousand metal tubes after Cain eagerly opened the box. My heart sank immediately. That many tubes?
Right! Off we go!
The actual screwing together of the tubes was relatively simple once we had grouped them according to size. With the aid of my pink floral screwdriver, it wasn`t long before we had two ladder-type pieces of metal lying on the carpet. I marvelled at our ingenuity. We decided that although we would start the construction in the den we would, at some point, have to move outside once the structure had reached a certain size. A two metre high ornament in the den not only would have looked ridiculous but would also make it impossible to move in the room. Vacuuming would also be a nightmare!
By the time we had got out into the garden, Cain and I were working efficiently. He put the tubes together and I lined up the holes, inserted the screws and secured them with the help of my trusty screwdriver. All was well, although in secret, I began to worry a little about the size of our new garden feature. Where was I going to put it? Despite one or two hiccups, we finally managed to secure the final screw into the frame. The top of the arch actually fitted together after a bit of a struggle, and I didn`t swear once (audibly). After a quick cool drink I was ready to start the task of finding a home for it.
Lifting the arch into its standing position posed several problems however; the first being where to position it. As my washing line, on the left, stretches from the back of the house leading to the shed at the top end of the garden, my two metre garden ornamentation could not go on that side. Opposite the washing line, against the right hand side wall, mature and fast-growing trees, attrative in their own right, have now gobbled up a large section of that side of the garden, as they spread across away from the fence, so that was no good either. I stood for several moments in the middle of the garden gripping the structure tightly as the wind whipped around us threathening to send my arch skyward. Cain, now familiar with my frequent indecisions in everday life, had long abandoned me and was now playing happily on his X Box in the lounge.
I then spent the next half hour shuffling to and from various points in my garden, dragging the reluctant structure, to see if I could find a suitable setting for it to enhance my pretty little patch of grass. Once or twice I thought I had found the ideal spot and tried to force the metal spokes into the hard ground. As we have had very little rain, this proved impossible and I only succeeded in bending the fragile prongs as I struggled to penetrate the dry, stony, parched soil. I was beginning to sweat more than a marathon runner at the twenty mile stage and cursed my idiocy.
With every attempt at forcing the structure into the ground and the constant motion caused by my lack of planning and decision making, the arch was weakening and twisting dramatically. Several of the screws had been dislodged and the bottom two tubes had twisted so badly, the metal was splitting. A decision had to be made and I had to make it now! So I removed the bottom, damaged prong on each side of the arch, shortening it by eight inches. Success! It was significantly lighter and easier to manoeuvr.
Eventually, I settled for a spot central to the garden where my magnificent arch could be seen from all angles. Standing just in front of a rhodedendrum bush, it looked magnificent, almost regal. Talking of angles - they too were a nightmare! It took forever to set the arch so that it didnt look bowed. Using the hose to soften the earth, the struts finally bedded down into the sodden soil and at last my efforts were rewarded. My garden rose arch stood tall and proud, albeit with a few missing screws, slightly wonky left side and two extremely distorted lower poles.
A vague, sketchy directions note slipped out along with ten thousand metal tubes after Cain eagerly opened the box. My heart sank immediately. That many tubes?
Right! Off we go!
The actual screwing together of the tubes was relatively simple once we had grouped them according to size. With the aid of my pink floral screwdriver, it wasn`t long before we had two ladder-type pieces of metal lying on the carpet. I marvelled at our ingenuity. We decided that although we would start the construction in the den we would, at some point, have to move outside once the structure had reached a certain size. A two metre high ornament in the den not only would have looked ridiculous but would also make it impossible to move in the room. Vacuuming would also be a nightmare!
By the time we had got out into the garden, Cain and I were working efficiently. He put the tubes together and I lined up the holes, inserted the screws and secured them with the help of my trusty screwdriver. All was well, although in secret, I began to worry a little about the size of our new garden feature. Where was I going to put it? Despite one or two hiccups, we finally managed to secure the final screw into the frame. The top of the arch actually fitted together after a bit of a struggle, and I didn`t swear once (audibly). After a quick cool drink I was ready to start the task of finding a home for it.
Lifting the arch into its standing position posed several problems however; the first being where to position it. As my washing line, on the left, stretches from the back of the house leading to the shed at the top end of the garden, my two metre garden ornamentation could not go on that side. Opposite the washing line, against the right hand side wall, mature and fast-growing trees, attrative in their own right, have now gobbled up a large section of that side of the garden, as they spread across away from the fence, so that was no good either. I stood for several moments in the middle of the garden gripping the structure tightly as the wind whipped around us threathening to send my arch skyward. Cain, now familiar with my frequent indecisions in everday life, had long abandoned me and was now playing happily on his X Box in the lounge.
I then spent the next half hour shuffling to and from various points in my garden, dragging the reluctant structure, to see if I could find a suitable setting for it to enhance my pretty little patch of grass. Once or twice I thought I had found the ideal spot and tried to force the metal spokes into the hard ground. As we have had very little rain, this proved impossible and I only succeeded in bending the fragile prongs as I struggled to penetrate the dry, stony, parched soil. I was beginning to sweat more than a marathon runner at the twenty mile stage and cursed my idiocy.
With every attempt at forcing the structure into the ground and the constant motion caused by my lack of planning and decision making, the arch was weakening and twisting dramatically. Several of the screws had been dislodged and the bottom two tubes had twisted so badly, the metal was splitting. A decision had to be made and I had to make it now! So I removed the bottom, damaged prong on each side of the arch, shortening it by eight inches. Success! It was significantly lighter and easier to manoeuvr.
Eventually, I settled for a spot central to the garden where my magnificent arch could be seen from all angles. Standing just in front of a rhodedendrum bush, it looked magnificent, almost regal. Talking of angles - they too were a nightmare! It took forever to set the arch so that it didnt look bowed. Using the hose to soften the earth, the struts finally bedded down into the sodden soil and at last my efforts were rewarded. My garden rose arch stood tall and proud, albeit with a few missing screws, slightly wonky left side and two extremely distorted lower poles.
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