"It is mere fancy?"

Today, I stole my last load of stones from the dried river bed in the rubber plantation. It's always really nerve-racking as I do not what anyone seeing me taking the stones. As I said earlier, they are especially beautiful stones. The path really does look like something out of a fairy tale. Of course, the magic path is for little G when she can toddle down it, pulling it apart. And maybe in the future she will look back on some happy, forgotten memory of these towering plants and flowers. I hope so.

I plan to finish on Sunday evening. Tomorrow, I have to cut the remainder of the path, plant the new plants still in their pots and generally clear the place up a bit. I think on Sunday, I'll fill in the cracks between the stones and make sure they are all firmly bedded down into the thick, orange clay muck that is this garden. Yet, it can grasp a rock like a haemorrhoid around a turd. Excellent foot grip and sturdy control of shoe or barefoot, if you fancy. Then it will be finished.

Then, of course, there is the phase 2 query.

Phase 2?

Yes, and little mentioned at that. I foresee an extension of the path, across the rear of the garden, and forming a cute, little circle of fairy stones around the tree.

But, it is mere fancy?

Couldn't really happen, could it?

Or could it?

Or maybe it could.

Or could it?