I’m really struggling today and there’s no one to blame except myself.

Yesterday afternoon, during a break in the rain, I dug around the struggling apple tree, paying particular attention to the soil around the drip-line, compacted during Summer’s heat. 

In the last five years the tree hasn’t grown much beyond two metres. It’s been touch and go whether we’d remove it and replace it with something else, or give it a good dose of T.L.C. and hope for the best. After advice from a friend who’s a horticulturist, we decided on the latter course.

I forked some compost into the soil and mulched it heavily with a mix of pea-straw and horse manure. Then I gave the same treatment to a nashi pear tree that I’ve roughly ‘espaliered’ along the back fence and which hasn’t produced fruit since 2003.

Ramming the heavy garden fork into the dense soil, I wondered – only momentarily – whether there might be one or two repercussions on wrist, elbow and shoulder joints but nevertheless blithely carried on, enjoying the coolness of a fine, steady drizzle.

On completion of that chore, the wise course of action would have been to put away the tools and retire inside for a cuppa and a well-earned rest but, heck, it was raining and you can’t let an opportunity like that pass by while plants are threatening to curl up their toes.

The Soft Tree-Fern (Dicksonia antarctica), between the house and the rainwater tank, had suffered badly during Summer’s ferocious heat. Although shaded for much of the day, and watered regularly, a spate of searingly hot mornings had burnt most of its fronds. It needed to be moved to a space where sunlight didn’t linger.

Across the bed where the shade is deeper, there were a few bromeliads – or mozzie breeders as we call them – that I dug up to make space for the tree-fern. Frost sensitive, they’d grow well beneath its shade.

Unlike the clay in the rest of the garden, the soil between the house and the tank is deep and sandy. I’m guessing that it’s a remnant from when sand was laid down to make a base for the tank’s installation.

Leaves from an overhanging Salix Daphnoides have added layers of humus to the soil and the bromeliads love it there; as, I’m sure, will the tree-fern, given enough shade. 

Refusing offers of help from my partner, I dug out the tree- fern and lumbered with it across to the other side of the bed where I dumped it into the waiting hole, backfilled and tamped down the soil.

It was heavy and I really should have graciously accepted the offered help but my partner had spent all morning clearing undergrowth from the lower part of the block. Besides, after sitting around all day Sunday, I felt the need for exercise.

We’d already moved the tree-fern once, from the western side of the house. Previous occupants established a fernery there, covered by shade-cloth that shaded not only the ferns but also the side of the house, making it cold and dark in Winter.

Before their departure they removed nearly all the plants from that bed, leaving only a Bird’s Nest Fern (now deceased) and the Soft Tree-Fern. So we took down the shade-cloth, planted succulents and other sun-loving types, and moved the tree-fern to a spot where it wasn’t routinely blasted with heat every afternoon.

But during our Summer from hell, even the relative shade of an easterly aspect was too much for the poor old thing. I’m hoping that the deeper shade to which it’s been re-located will give it a new lease of life.

I just wish I could do the same for my poor old body. Not only wrists, elbows and shoulder joints ached this morning, but also neck, back and hamstrings. Although I reluctantly executed some yoga stretches immediately after my labours – a routine that usually wards off aches the next day –  I feel as if I’ve aged 10 years overnight. 

I was foolishly and prematurely marvelling on the fact that my knees have been spared from testifying to my decrepitude – to the same extent as other parts – when my partner dropped this morning’s mail onto my desk.

The free seeds from the Digger’s Club have arrived and their planting will involve a good deal of bending and crouching.

So I have no choice but to submit my knees to the same level of punishment that I’ve inflicted upon the rest of my body.

If I can just get out of this chair…