Quick quick. Let me fling these at you on my way back out the orchard.
It has finally (finally!) stopped raining and drizzling. So there is no time to lose.
It is hilariously bad in the amount of weedy material to move. But the soil is soft and the weeds are positively quivering when I approach. Out they go, onto the ever growing heap.
I nipped up to the top of the terrace this morning when the sun peeped out to take these shots.
The wild boar have churned like mad all around the water supply. The huge tank is full to overflowing and I have no time to hook up the run-off hose to put this lovely water to good use. There is an orchard to wrestle.
So enjoy your autumn scenes and think of me, up to my armpits (I was going to write arse but that is a bit Anglo-Saxon for this polite blog) in green matter, wet and dank, going through the third pair of gloves in one day. Two pairs steaming and dripping in front of the fire, last pair with holes in the finger tips. Back out I go.