I should be very glad that my 93 year old father is happy to climb up ladders, scrape paint, administer wood filler, and re-paint, although I find the whole process a little nerve-wracking. Here he is, waving me off as I went out for a sunny walk. He declined my offer to hold the ladder steady, saying it was made with an exceptionally wide footprint - as he climbed past my window (I was doing final, final checking of textual references against plate numbering ...), he certainly seemed unshaky enough ...
The garden itself is just past its most spectacular part of spring display, perhaps, but it's still looking pretty good.
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