Beds within borders.

No, this is not a post about sleeping within your own political boundaries - it is about getting old(er) and stiff and having a wonderful husband who accepts a pile of bridge decking when it is offered, resists the temptation to convert it to sheep-yards or firewood, and makes it into frames around garden beds so I don't have to bend over so far to plant or pick vegies.

Now all I have to do is plant them. Pics to come.