I've noticed that for the last couple of days, I have been mostly dealing with piles...
I now have a pile of books to start studying.
I have a nice pile of ironed bedlinen and clothes to put away.
I have a pile of wood in my garden waiting to be assembled (watch this space...)
This little pile has been stitched together and I have paid for it dearly: the hours I have spent with my head bent over in front of my sewing-machine have caused the most almighty spasm in my neck and shoulders, which has necessitated in me having to take lots of strong medication.
I have sorted out my piles of seed packets and got cracking on sowing them. I am very late in doing so this year - I will blame it on the weather, in true English style.
My greenhouse now looks almost respectable with piles of trays and pots full of vegetables and flowers of all kinds.
I am looking forward to piles of freshly picked salad all summer long.
My tulip beds have piles of blooms out. Forget-me-nots are so easy to underplant tulips with - I just shake the seed-heads after flowering wherever I want them the next year.
And looking out of my conservatory windows, my clematis montana alba, has piles of buds on it just waiting to explode into a froth of white...