I’m quite decorated with green goo.  So decorated in fact that I decided to keep going for a second tank of twin stroke petrol just so I wouldn’t mess up two sets of clothes.

Strimming with dense foliage and slightly damp plants makes for a thrilling morning’s work.

I started with a strim around the hedge and the potting shed and then moved down to tidy the steps to the pool. Didn’t I strim these areas just a week ago? Curse this lush rain.

And then I had to wade into the duck pond.  It’s tricky as there are so many things I have to control in this area, and so many delicate plants to save. It’s not easy when you are getting into a swinging rhythm and aiming to get as much done in the most economical space of time.

There are small chestnut seedlings that have to but cut to the ground, and nettles and brambles and cherry seedlings. But I’m trying to preserve the foxfloves, the hellebores, the ferns, the cow parsley and the clover.

I can’t say I did a brilliant job. Especially as there is a lopped mulberry trunk in the way. It’s too heavy for me to shift.

But it will do for now. I call it half done. I should actually cut down more of this cow parsley as there is plenty everywhere else.  But it seems such a shame to lose the lovely flowers just as they are coming into their glorious glow.

Next up was to try and make an inroad at the stables.  There are small trees in here. Chestnuts that we just don’t need.  They are growing right underneath the cherries; and quite frankly, we have a surfeit of chestnuts on this farm.

So in I went, strimmer whirring.  The nettles don’t put up much of a fight, but there are brambles aplenty to snag one’s strimmer blade on.

And it really is only a rough pass.  I don’t want to get the strimmer head too close to the rocks; this replacement is brand new after the old one met a rock and shattered in half.  I ought to change the blade for the nastier scythe and hit the wall with vim, but I just didn’t have the courage.

I have reduced the nettle population, plus a few chesntut trees and an awful lot of grass so for that I am thankful.

Why, you can even walk down the steps from the pool now.  Up until this morning you couldn’t see the steps for the greenery.

I didn’t have time to attack all of the bank above the orchard, but I did make some lunging forways into the thicket to cut the heads off the thistles.  There are plenty that are poised to flower.

Gorgeous flowers I admit, but boy do they spread with alacrity.  And if you can’t pluck out the flowers without resorting to gauntlets, then they aren’t a lot of fun to have.

That’s the challenge of keeping a lot of the garden to wildflower state. I tolerate most wildflowers but draw the line at thistles, nettles, brambles and verbascum.  That does leave plenty; and my goodness it has been a great year for the red flowering clover.

I admire it as I swish past and try not to knock the heads off.

And here is some deft work to avoid strimming the poppies.  They self seed in all sorts of inconvenient places. Right in the middle of the steps up to the potting shed for this one.  But I didn’t knock it’s head off, despite almost losing my footing to avoid it.

I’m still working out the new stimmer head. It seems to vibrate a bit more than the old one; and it’s bigger and slightly heavier.  And the strimmer wire still gets stuck every ten minutes or so.  I know you are supposed to tap the head of the machine on the ground and more plastic wire miraculously feeds through.

I’m still waiting for that miracle.  But I don’t mind the pauses. It gives me a chance to rest.

I filled up another tank of petrol and nipped down to a lower terrace.  When you look down on the lower terraces from the house you can see a vista of green. But I see pesky bits of weed. Bramble mostly. Sticking up and ruining the view. Well, my view. It’s an obsessive thing.

I managed most of one terrace before I ran out of oomph.  It was one of those late morning moments when you are just hoping it will conk out, from lack of juice. But it keeps on chugging and you keep on strimming.

The horses could trim this area easily.  But they are too selective. They eat the grass, but leave the vinca, the brambles, the nettles and the verbascs.  So I suggested to Jean Daniel that I leave it for a few more weeks. Time enough, I hope to get it all tamed.

And actually I do so love this first terrace with its curve, I’d hate the horses to ruin it.  So a rod for my back – an hour or so of trudging up and down this huge terrace behind the mower.  But I love the look when it’s done.

It’s sort of an expanse of nothingness. But the vista of a flat bit of land is so rare around here that I like to keep it neat.

Besides, I couldn’t plant flowers or crops down here as it’s a highway for deer, wild boar and the occasional fox.

An early evening communal task.  I was up at my top vegetable garden this evening trying to sort out the raspberries.  There are Weeds in there. Great tendrils of goosegrass and armfuls of vetch.  Plus assorted grasses and mess.  So I set to happily pulling it out and enjoying the soft evening light.

I looked up at Jean Daniel’s potager which abuts ours (albeit with a 50 metre strech of greenery between us) and he was doing exactly the same.  His weeds were just as impressive.  So we had a companionable chat about life while attending to our veg.

I then cut a large handful of asparagus for him and took them up.  I warned him that I think Artur has a tick. I didn’t dare attend to it as I wasn’t prepared for the Artur strenght lacerations he would inflict if I attempted to pull it out. But Jean Daniel thinks that will be an exciting challenge.  He looked about him and asked where the cat was. And I had to admit that he was asleep in the potting shed.

So he will know where to find him when he is ready to attend.

Actually we could have done with his mouser skills as the mole was active as we were chatting. Right behind me in the field across from the vegetable beds.  I left Jean Daniel to it (he was standing over the fresh mole hill with a manic look on his face and a sharp hoe in his hand) and went back to the house.

It has been a long day. Just time to cut some marjoram for a garnish for dinner and call time on the outdoor chores.

Porridge.  It’s a power breakfast this morning, with a side order of the first year’s strawberries.

I rarely have a large volume of this crop; but this winter’s cold seems to have done one fruit a lot of good.

Different varieties, some those amazing wild strawberry fruit des bois types. But all jumbled up to go over the breakfast.

It rained a bit this morning (3mm) but it’s not enough to deter me.  The sun is shining and it will dry off the grass.  And I am determined to get some of the grass levels down.

It’s so tricky with these new larger pictures.  I wanted to add them to the last post, but there was no room.

The courtyard now has seven large planters. One one side there are three magnificent roses, and on the north side I have tulips, lilies and now mint.

But the star of the show right now is the wisteria.

It takes an age to flower; but that is the altitude and the variety. My small purple wisteria on the south side of the house is out and almost over.  But the white wisteria on the east side of the building takes its time.

But when it finally flowers it is breathtaking. And the scent is so surprising.  My first instinct of course is to try and trap it and bring the scent and flowers indoors. But it flowers about 20 feet up the building and cannot even be pruned without taking your life in your hands up a ladder.  So I admire it from afar, and pray it won’t attack our newly installed gutters.

Oh yes, and another surprise for this year: the thalitcrum has flowered. This time last year we had a drought.  And this woodland plant does prefer things moist and shaded.

I can’t claim I did anything on purpose; but the shrub is happy and flowering like mad.  The shade garden has never looked prettier or fuller or more colourful.  I have great trouble photographing it.  I need to get up at dawn to do it justice.  And as I spent too many hours last night listening to thunder storms around 220am I was not keen to get up early and record my work.

A breakfast dilemma: is it too wet to mow?  I arrived yesterday and everything is beyond lush.

Who would have thought that six days could produce such growth?  I swear the peas have grown a foot.  I had to add two more rows of twine around the poles to try and contain them.  Their tendrils were starting to seek out all sorts of strange resting places.  None of them madly convenient.

Oh. I just turned around and looked out the window. No mow. It’s raining.  Rats.

I will have to see if there are any indoor tasks I can do.  And there is always clean the office. It’s getting messy in there.  But I am saved. ‘Clean the bread oven area’.  That’s almost outdoorish, and something fun to tick off the list.

The very first thing I did yesterday was to cut flowers for the house. My favourite thing.  The Gertie Jeykll roses are now coming out.

And the viburnum shrub in the courtyard is flowering well.  It needed a rather radical prune two years ago, so I lost the flowers.  But this year I am well rewarded for the patience.  But the wind is already buffeting the flowers.

It’s such a shame that this wind and rain might batter it a bit.  Just getting a few of the branches into the vase involved some rather messy clearing up of the kitchen floor.

Once I’ve drunk this perfect pot of tea I will get some rain gear on and go out with my camera. I forgot to take it on my lap around the garden yesterday, so I’m playing catch up.

The valerian up on the terrace bank above the potting shed is a dream.

In fact the entire potting shed bank is looking more than lush. I know there are squillions of weeds in there, but they are so crammed with the beautiful plants that I can’t wade in to sort out just yet.

The valerian is the first out.  But I’m hoping that the peonies won’t be that far behind.  They are in that exciting bud stage where you think they will open, but in fact are weeks off.

This cooler weather doesn’t egg them on, but the clary sage might be magnificent soon. They are thigh high right now.

His royal haughtiness deigned to be talked to. But there was no way he was going to give in and let me pat him. Or offer a lap for his purring antics.  He spent the morning just standing out of my sight, and then purposely stalking by and sitting on rocks and glaring at me.

Am I reading too much into this? He does seem cross when I go away and it takes a few days before he thinks I’m fun company again.

At least he is availing himself of my lovely warm potting shed.  I had to wake him up this morning as he was taking a long nap up on the top shelf in his favourite wine box.

He did have about six minutes of activity, before he realised it was too wet to go out and climbed back in the box.

There was some complicated yowling which I was unable to translate. Last week that was the signal to sit down in the chaise longue and be prepared for some affectionate cuddling of cat and purring. But today it was just plain old complicated yowling.

I was madly finishing the painting of my new planter. Talk about an instant garden. Purchased one afternoon down in town. Assembled in the late afternoon and two coats of undercoat in the early evening.

And then a mad very late night coat of the lovely sage green paint.

It was a bit tacky this morning as it hadn’t really dried, so I donned gloves and protective clothing to grapple with the large box and take it outside.

And this afternoon I planted it up.  Six different mint plants, lovingly surrounded by compost’s finest.   A top coating of gravel. A careful watering; and then position it in between the two planters already in place.

I do so love being greedy. It means I never skimp when it comes to seed sowing and hence, potting up small plants.  And here are just the plants that are not quite ready to go out.  My what a haul.

I must admit that half the trays seem to be full of calendula (French marigold) and verbena bonariensis seedlings.  Plus lots of cosmos for the village at the end of May.   I have to resow the verbena and marigolds each year.  The cosmos comes up like weeds in my potager and I have to be ruthless about weeding those out or moving them somewhere suitable.

My vbs just don’t make it over the cold winter in any large volume.  And volume is what you want in a garden as big as ours.

And for my last post for a week, here is a picture of the current fecundity in the potager.

If you look at the picture you can see the potatoes to the right, with tomatoes and aubergines in between.  Plus red clover in between the rows to cut down on weeds.

To the left are the cloches hiding all the cabbage plants.  Top left are the lettuces hidden under the too luminous green shade netting.  Plus the spinach.

I’ve also sown carrots and parsnips in long rows in this quadrant. But have doubled up with swiss chard over the top.

And in the far right quardant are the mighty peas and beans.  They are coming up beautifully.  I’m only planting the crimsom flowered broad beans as they look so fantastic.  And I think they are mostly mangetout as I can’t bear to waste all the poddery of the pea.

And with our erratic rainful and my erratic watering, I find that sometimes getting to the fully formed pea stage is just a little too risky.  So mangetout and sugar snap peas all the way it is.

Here’s another view of the potager from the lawn.  I have to put in the row of sunflowers down the edge, and possibly interweave with gaura and verbenas.  I haven’t decided. This is the brand new wall that Nicolas made last autumn.  It’s too lovely to want to plant anything in front of the stones, so I thought it best to make something more scenic on the top side.

The tricky thing is it’s going to be hard to walk up the path with so many plants.  But that is what a French potager ought to be. Crammed with veg and flowers all intermingling.  I’ll just have to watch where I walk.

And speaking of intermingling. I do hope these poppies come up a fetching colour.  I leave most things to self seed in the vegetable garden as it’s such a thrill to find out what is coming up.  And when I spotted these poppy seedlings I knew they had to be spared.

Naturally they are enjoying their moist and rich surroundings a bit too much. And I had to plant the red cabbage around them, but it will be fun when they burst out. They can have their weeks of glory and then I shall turn this little cloche into a cabbage bed again.

I’ve been grovelling in the gravel all afternoon.  Weed work. And it’s great to get the courtyard cleared now, because when they take hold it’s devilishly hard to get them out later.  The roots of all sorts of festuca grasses and achillea take hold in the weedproof fabric under the gravel and will not budge.

So I added more sun screen, settled my hat firmly on my head, found a comfy seat and then set to work.

There is no easy way to do this. You have to pluck each and every weed out of the gravel.

Hours later I was still at it. But I had a companion. I can’t say his weeding technique is up to much. He kept getting cross when I moved the weeding bucket as it shifted his shade.

So eventually he reverted to great stalking beast and perched on the rock above my head.

And I can tell you it felt a bit like I was the gazelle on the velt and Artur was the predatory lion.

He kept peering down at me menacingly, and then tired of that and just fell asleep.

But he did stalk me later through the giant stipa grasses and thought it a great sport. I’m just glad he didn’t spot the bad back and the slow moving aching gait and single me out from the herd and pounce.

Earlier in the day I was much more active.  I planted out over 40 cabbage plants (all varieties) up at the top vegetable plot. There’s a nifty long anti cabbage moth net so I crammed it full of cavolo nero, red cabbage, tsoi sim and some turnip greens left over from the mass plant in the potager.

These veg get watered less often as it’s such a faff to haul up the hose, (it is around 100 metres from the tap)  so they tend to be smaller and tougher. But oddly, they are less pestered by pests. Maybe the slugs just don’t do the altitude. Or the cabbage moth get enough sport in the lower plot.  But these veg are for eating later in the autumn. And if we don’t get such a killer winter again this year, they can go all over the colder months.

I have so many cabbages planted out in the potager I can barely move.  And it’s going to be a logistic feat just to get things weeded later in the season.

Watering is easy as I can water through the cloches, but I know that to lever up the anti pest supports can be playful.  I was reading Monty Don’s book about his cabbages – he hates netting, so he just visits each and every plant over the summer every day and picks off the eggs.  Oh, that I had the leisure to wander round each brassica and peer into the underside of every leaf. Why, the man must have staff.

I’ll stick with my cloches and nets for now.  And I will be smug until I see the enemy caught up inside the netting trying to get out.  That is so so annoying. But I guess when a butterfly needs to lay its eggs not much will deter it.  And there is always a gap somewhere at the ends of the cloches that I forget to secure in place.

I did an hour’s lawn mowing as well.  (Longer I suspect but I wasn’t clock watching) as I needed the mulch to hide the weedproof fabric on the path around the top of my potager.  The plan was to cover it with gravel. A nd I will do that eventually. But that can’t happen until the roofing materials are sorted (June).  And I know it is easy to turn a blind eye to an eyesore, but I came up with the solution on the very first mow.  Grass cuttings.

I use them on the paths up at the top veggie bed, so why not here?  I have chosen two good days where it will be hot and dry and turn the cuttings to a crisp beige, rather than green slime.  And I have the raw material.

Lawns, endless lawns. I would have loved to have done the east garden and the walnut path, but I just ran out of time. Still, the main lawn is fetching and the entrance to the garden below the house looks neater and is almost dandelion free. For now.

I had planned on ripping up all the grass that is in a thin strip in front of the compost bins and serves as access to the hose in the cellar in front of the house.

But I love the look of the lavenders and brown mulch contrasting so starkly with the green grass. I was admiring it so much I forot to take a photograph to illustrate the point.  Next trip.  Gravel would probably be easier in the long run. But weeds do creep into gravel as I well know. (And the numbness in the fingers from pulling the darn stuff out will testify).

Is there an optimum thickness of gravel that prevents weeds but doesn’t make you feel like you are doing laps of Manly beach? I’ll leave it all for now.

And there you have my last 12 hour day in the garden for a week.

Tomorrow I need to clear the potting shed of course. Trundle back and forth between the potting shed and the barn to keep the seedlings alive for a week out of the heat. But that’s fine. All the work one puts into growing things from seed mean you care enough not to kill the blighters just when they get to the small seedling stage.

Well you didn’t expect me to show you a photograph of Vernoux’s muncipal tip did you?  I could of course as it’s the neatest most orderly place in the entire region.

Paolo, who runs it five (or is it six?) mornings a week sweeps after every visitor, tidies manically. And there is a shipping container for every single need. You drive up and are directed with beautiful signs towards your recepticle of choice. And it’s on the side of the hill so you don’t even have to heave.

We had a ponderous discussion about the strimmer which was also in the car. He, like me, thinks Stihl can do no wrong.  But that the hidden rocks which break the machines are perfidious. He didn’t use that word.

Next on to get the new strimmer head (sorry, this is dull) and back home via the boulangerie and the petrol station.

And now I am just waiting for the grass to dry a bit more so I can use the new improved strimmer.  So instead of being idle I’ve been planting out.

The potager is getting rather crowded. That delicious word underplanted just means crowded to me.

I’ve put four aubergines in among the rows of charlotte potatoes, and surrounded by red clover. Crammed next to the future runner beans and sunflowers and sweet peas.

And the six tomato plants are close by.  If this damp weather keeps up I will be able to harvest the new pototoes a bit earlier, and then I will have heaps more room in this part of the garden. I have plans to plant peppers here, but right now they haven’t even germinated. So I might have to give in and buy in plants.  Something I’m not that keen on doing.  I do so love to grow things from seed.

I try to weed out the cosmos seedlings as I go – they germinate daily.  All over the potager.  But I’m leaving a little hedge of them right at the front of the garden. But I am much more ruthless about thinning.

And as I only have two more planting days I’m trying to grab a plant each time I go up to the potting shed.  I must get the soft fruit out – propagated red currants, jostaberries.  And there are some eryngiums that are ready to try their luck in the calabert garden.

Luckily Artur is doing a sterling job of guarding the potting shed from intruders.

Ah, a full potting shed. It’s chock full of plants.  Everything is just so reluctant to go outdoors during this cool spell. But there are some 24C days predicted later this week, so everything will have to get booted out before then.

I’m sitting in the chaise longue hoping that Artur will do a bit of lap sitting and purring.  But he barely gives me a glance as he leaps up onto the top shelf and climbs into his cashmere lined box.

It’s quite toasty up there near the roof. But I wish he would earn his keep by being a bit more friendly.

Herding cats. It’s an impossible task.  So I chose an easier task this afternoon; pool vacuuming and weeding. I’m an expert at both.

The calabert bed is fine on the level near the path, but the upper reaches were looking decidedly jungly.  But the weeding is easy as there was mainly vetch, loosely rooted clovers and other mystery plants which came up without much heaving and tearing of nails. I filled four huge sacks for the compost heap.

And I can’t believe how amazing the santolinas are. It’s funny how you can get attached to a particular plant.  These wonderful mounds of scented mediterranean plants all came from cuttings from Andrew’s original three he gave me.  They are the enormous plants in the middle of the picture. And they were my first attempt at taking cuttings.  And I succeeded and created 12 plants.  All of them are in here somewhere and just surging with growth.

I can’t believe they made it over the freezing winter. And I must confess there was a moment in February when I thought they looked very battered. But the new growth is very fluffy and plump. I will cut off their flowers smartly, as these plants have to do work as an evergreen mound rather than a not so excitingly yellow flowered plant.

I’m taking yet more cuttings and hope my new technique will work.  I am using better compost now. No more sand in the mix. We shall see if it works.

Other excitements: the aquilegias are all out.  All fun and clashing colours but they are an added element to the shade garden. 

The shade garden was predominantly white and green last year, so the new addition of the purple flowers of the honesty and these aquilegias make a refreshing change.

And I’ve taken 20 cuttings of the euphorbia polychroma and if I get some time, I’ll take 20 more.  I’m trying the new technique of using hormone rooting powder and putting the euphorbias in trays and not covering them with plastic bags.

All ideas were taken from the national collection holder of euphorbias in Britain which I saw on television last week.

And believe it or not, the collection is held at an allotment in Sheffield.   So you don’t need a grand country house to hold a collection.

I could be a national collection holder of weeds.

But when I look around the garden I can see that there are not that many places that need a lot more weeding work.

If I get time tomorrow, I might tackle the weeds growing through the gravel in the courtyard.  After I’ve tried dropping everything off at the tip.

I’m sure it’s a blasphemous thought but I was singing a hymn of praise to the mighty mower today.  What an amazing job it did.

With my strimmer out of action, I had to attack the terraces in a gentler way. And avoid the edges, and the rocks and any other exciting landmines.

I cranked the mower blade up to six and waded in.

And it really was a wade.

The tricky bit is I want to cut down all the brambles and baby broom plants that grow in the grass.  But save some of the best of the beautiful wildflowers.  With the mower so high I can save all the lovely thyme plants which carpet two of the lower terraces.

But I have to steer madly around these blue flowers. I ought to ask Leslie what they are; she’d be able to name them in a trice.  So I’ll save them and hope I see her before they go over.

They look a bit like a muscari, but they aren’t.

Anway, it made the walking more of a pleasure having to suddenly jerk the mower and change direction around the clumps. I’ve actually walked 8km so far today.

And I suspect I’ll feel my stomach muscles tomorrow; the terraces aren’t flat. They have a playful slopes where the mower will insist on lurching.  So I tend to have to haul quite a bit to steer the machine back on course.

I’ve done almost all the main terraces. I really need the strimmer to do the trickier bits. And it’s getting a bit jungly out there.

I did take the strimmer up to town today, but completely forgot today was a public holiday. It will have to stay in the car until tomorrow. It’s wedged well underneath a pile of stuff that has to go to the tip. It too was shut. Grrr.

Still, it did free up more time for me to go weeding. And that is what I’m about to do. Onward and upward.