Falling on one’s sward

I was wrong: So much for thinking summer was over and it was all downhill to winter.    I had to mow in a t shirt and sun cap today. Goodness it was warm work.

But with only half the garden done yesterday and Sunday looming, I had to finish today.

We tend not to make too much of a din on our mountain top on the day of rest.   A chain saw or a mower can really reverberate around the valleys and mountains.

Mind you the hunters make enough noise for all of us; yelping packs of dogs and the ocassional blast of a shotgun on a hapless boar.

I finished the main lawn and the area at the west of the property which is looking fetching right now.   The duck pond is quite clear and there are no dead trees. I’m pleased.

I had to put all the grass cuttings somewhere, and have decided to mulch around the lavender plants on the bank.   And I had just enough to cover all the bare soil.

So that’s another job sorted.

But just when I was congratulating myself on having such a lovely neat garden with acres of short perfect grass, I thought I should nip down to the vineyard on a quest.

Medlars. I knew that I had seen one there a few years back and headed down to the very bottom of the mountain to have a look.

Oh my it’s vile. The vineyard is overgrown, a thicket of bracken and brambles.   And I swear there are new fifteen foot tall chestnut seedlings where there was nothing last year.

To call this place neglected is an understatement. I’m amazed I’m actually posting the pictures.

You can barely see the vines.

But I could see the medlars. Quite a lot of fruit, too.   But it’s a tangle of branches and mess.

I climbed gingerly down into the vineyard – almost garotting myself on some tendrils of brambles at throat height. And made my way to the edge where the medlar grows.

I was able to just reach up and grab some of the fruit. And it is not yet ripe. Well not yet rotten if you like. Bletted. Soft and squidgy and going off.   But I picked some just because I could, and took a few extra shots of the poor tree just to show how not to prune a tree.

I take no credit for the neglect. Well, for the first twenty years. But I really ought to have a good session down here with guantlets, loppers, strimmer, chain saw and courage.

This will take a lot of work to turn it back into a part of a farm one would want to visit.