Well, we all have days when however hard we struggle with something, it's all a bit pointless in the end. It can be so frustrating and demoralising. How many times have I tried and tried to make something, and finally given up, or at least put it away to rethink it at a later date.
Today fruitless labour took on a new meaning for me.
Milly has spent most of the afternoon racing around the troughs picking up great chunks of diamonds.
She made a little pile of them, and then carefully selected only the very best to bury very carefully in deep holes in the vegetable patch.
She will no doubt hunt them out in few weeks' time, just to admire them and then rebury them.
She has no idea of the fruitlessness of this occupation.
Her treasures are chunks of ice I've dug out of the trough. Here's the little pile of rejects she's left on the lawn.
Poor Milly - all that work, and nothing at all to show for it.