Creeping mint; it’s a clever plant. You start it off in a planter in the courtyard and it happily escapes and romps away.

The cool of the afternoon shade in the courtyard was perfect for repelling the invader. I had to scrape back all the gravel, expose the weedproof fabric and then go hunting. The roots are dead easy to spot and even more satisfying to yank out. My hands were deliciously scented. A far cry from most garden tasks.

Mint tea anyone? I have buckets of mint to spare.

I was just settling down to a spot of weeding when the call came. Hello, it’s Estelle. You are coming to my place this afternoon. I won’t brook no for an answer.

Well she didn’t couch it exactly in those terms, but it felt that way. Our occasional cleaning lady has quite an impressive garden and I have been meaning to drop by and visit all summer. She is just ten minutes drive away in the next village.

But either I was busy or she was, and suddenly it’s mid September.  But I am so reluctant to submit to sitting in a car that I had to decline her kind offer. Perhaps I’ll walk next week I assured her. But no. That wouldn’t work. Today was the only afternoon free so she would drop the kids back at school and I was to be ready for her at two o’clock.  She would pick me up.  So much for trying to explain that it wasn’t just a Peugeot that caused the sciataic flare up, but any upholstered vehicle.

By two fifteen I was out of her car and being frog marched ever so gently to her farm. And well worth the pain of getting there it was too. What a potager. It’s huge. I took this shot from the kitchen window that overlooks the enormous veggie bed.  Endless delights.

And her cellar where she stores all the produce is pretty impressive too. Needless to say I came away with lots of booty (aubergine, french beans, eggs, eggs, eggs).  And on the return back to my smaller veggie garden I was able to do a swap of rainbow Swiss chard and runner beans. Fancy someone French actually liking runner beans. Well worth the kidnapping just to see someone’s face light up with delight at the sight of my endless crop of the brutes.

Poor Estelle, each time I see her now she’s going to have to be given sacks of the stuff.

Now where was I before my afternoon plans had changed? Yes, weeding the courtyard and attacking the mint.

Mulch is on my mind. I wanted to landscape the area in front of my potting shed. It is hard and dry but tough weeds have appeared over the season. And this a dry year. I imagine it would be very lush and weedy indeed in a good one.  And it needs to look neater. My dream of having decking and cold frame structures has to be put aside for a while.

An idea came to me while I was up in the forest. Pine cones.  There is almost a carpet of small cones up on the path. I have trudged past them on numerous occasions this past week and cottoned on. Maybe I can have a carpet of my very own down at the working end of the garden.

And I can always use them for firewood if they don’t work out. I always toss a handful into the kindling mix when I light a fire.

So up to the forest with large Ikea bags and kneelers and a collecting I did go.

And here’s the result. It’s wonderfully crunchy and satisfying to walk over. And with the weedproof fabric mulch underneath I stand a chance of it working for a bit.

By late afternoon I had another brainwave; easier to reach pine cones. There is a pile in the east garden. I rake these ones assiduously every year to make mowing easier.  And this time I could sit down while I pick. So I’m very very close. Just two more big bags and I should have enough mulch to cover the area.

I do need to do a bit of hard forking to reshape the east approach of the path. It’s a bit steep. But that will have to wait. I need to nip up to Vernoux first thing for car servicing and bread. And Nutella. Landscapers do not live on bread alone.

It’s done. For now. And I’m very pleased to have a blank canvas again.  I started early just endlessly moving soil. Into bags, onto the flat part of the bank, and up to the top.  Tonnes of the stuff. And I am counting my blessings that it’s bone dry and the soil is sandy.

Artur in fact thought it was the perfect sand pit and kept bouncing down and leaping along the lengths while I worked.  I found the boulder extended a foot or so more to the right, so that was where I first started, and then it was out with the bucket and spade and off I went.

Eventually I realised I need to get the little fence in place. I have to hold back all the soil I’m moving. Now it’s only stage one and it’s decidedly wonky. But it will do for now.

I just used lots of old leftover sticks which I had stacked in a corner of the house awaiting inspiration. And here it is.  First in went some thick metal rods which I hammered down to make the uprights. And then I wove (well, unwieldy weaving, but you get the idea) the long sticks into place.  I needed to hide the metal rods, so I put in some short uprights just to make it more of a chestnut look and less of a building site. The rods are used in concrete structures.

It’s ten metres or so long here, so I needed to make sure I had enough to create about two feet of height so I could stack the soil behind the barrier.

Later I will weave some more attractive thin sticks, but I was determined to keep on hauling soil and getting it done.  I want to have as much of a flat surface as possible on the bottom layer, so I decided to add more to my already growing soil pile and cut away the steep bank.  I’ll have to either plant those up with eragrostis grasses or cover it with weed proof fabric.

I actually went as far as to bring down a long length of the fabric. But it just looks too stark right now. Grasses perhaps.  But it feels cruel to be planting during this dry spell without a hint of rain in sight.  So I think I’ll just leave it as it is.

Well, I’m not having a weed here! Not after three days of work getting the darn things out. So I think I will put it down to newspapers and then go and have a good long mow of all the lawns and place grass cuttings over the top. That ought to keep things quiet for a while.  And give me some lovely walking exercise, rather than stooping over a fork and spade which I feel like I’ve done for days.

Then as soon as Andrew’s bulb order arrives I will plant it up with lots and lots of daffodils and tulips, sow wildflower seeds and consider what to do with the top little terrace.  I see a lovely evergreen mound of lavenders, cistus, santolinas and thyme.  But for now I have to leave the two olive trees there as a promise of things to come. The plants need to propagate and multiply first.

As an encore and a relief from all the relentless brown, I deadheaded all the asters in the east garden. Job done.

I just couldn’t launch myself into the landscaping today. Late yesterday afternoon I was looking at my little cuttings, and realised I was a few lavenders short. You always need to take heaps in the hope that some of the little plants survive.

So I set out with my secateurs and plastic bags and nipped about the garden snipping suitable candidates.

I noticed, too, that there were quite a few euphorbia wulfennii seedlings popping up in the wrong spot. They aren’t easy to transplant as they have quite a deep tap root. But if I can get them early, they might be good to put in the shade garden.

I’m completely confused about the look of the shade garden. Half the time I want to rip everything out and start again. But I don’t have enough of any one plant to get the effect I like.  So things will have to stay.

Then there was no putting it off… well I did pop around and dead head the roses. I can’t believe I have a new Gertie Jeykll at the bad end of September. It’s hot and dry and roses really shouldn’t be blooming. But I’m delighted this one is out. The scent is delicious.

So here’s the rest of the day’s work.  Moving soil. I’m slowly exposing the lovely granite boulder. It’s at least 5 metres wide. And the entire length of what I now have to call the plum garden (rather than olive orchard) is 17 metres. So you can imagine how tedious it is.  But I was consoling myself with the thought that it’s good sandy soil so easy peasy to move.

But where to move it? I can’t put in on the area right in front of the wall as I have spotted too many brambles there. They need weeding out.  So I’ve decided to stockpile the soil in bags and buckets and then have a brain wave.

One thing I have realised is that as I weed, and boy does it need weeding, I’m taking away the shape of the slope.  It’s now too steep.

So I think I’ll need to make a little terrace using some chestnut sticks and pickets.  I have plenty left over from the potager building. The sticks are wonky, but I think I’ll put in an initial barrier, and then try and pretty it up with some of my new lovely forest sticks. Fresh and straight.

And that way I can build up the spare soil in a bed at the top.  It’s hard to explain and even harder to photograph. My glasses are covered in a fine layer of soil.

But by the end of the day I can happily say I’ve broken the back of it. Plenty of exposed granite boulder as a feature, and plenty of soil to turn into a garden.

Spiffing sunset tonight. It makes a change from dull old dirt.

Done. I have transplanted two little olive trees.  They now form a perfect line in front of the house. One large (leaning) olive tree, and four little ones to keep it company.

The holes I dug before moving them were very, very well prepared. Compost, good soil, microrhizal fungi, water, both a good size.

And out popped the little olives with very little work with a fork and they should now feel more settled in soil that actually has room for the roots to grow.

But I didn’t get much of a chance to go back to landscaping the bank. It was market day today; so I felt like I spent the entire morning at Vernoux (good tomatoes, and fresh goats cheese, chain saw servicing, appointments at the garage for car servicing) and the afternoon seemed to have been spent in the forest. It’s cooler up there so it’s the perfect time to trudge up the steep hill (checking the source on the way – no water) and get in some nice work there.

We are cutting yet more wood for winter. Despite having about four years worth in the cellars.  The wood in the forest was cut over three years ago and has been sitting weathering and aging beautifully.  But now it’s a case of use it or lose it.  Nature will take its course.  So up we go each day to our allotted tasks. You will not be surprised to learn that I am not doing chainsaw duty.  I collect sticks.

And have been cutting my long straight chestnut saplings for the future potager fence. That keeps me busy. And active, and means I really earn that evening whisky.

It was the thought that came to me when I surveyed the steep bank below the house.  It has always been a tricky spot. I call it the olive orchard as I had planted four small olive trees here four years ago. And since then I’ve had four years of thinking ‘this isn’t quite right’.

It is long and narrow, steep, and tricky to strim. And you can never see the little olive trees for the weeds during the weed season (that will be about March until October).

So with the time and the inclination this week, out came the tools and off I went.

Here are a few before pictures to give you an idea of what a mess it is.  There’s a lovely stone wall up there somewhere, I tend to give it a bramble haircut about now.  But there’s also a very large rock.  And I have decided that if there’s a rock, then it needs exposing.  Off comes all the soil and mess and out comes the wire brush to get rid of any possible chance for weeds to take hold.

And there’s plenty of top soil here. Not brilliantly rich – it feels a bit leached.  But I didn’t have far to go to put it to good use.

Nicolas built this retaining wall two years ago and there was always a small gap of about a foot behind it that needed filling in. Over the seasons I have been adding grass cuttings, weeds, bits of soil when I had some.  But now it’s the mother load.

And with an aching sciatic back it’s a perfect project. I can stand in front of the wall, no bending required and scoop up the soil and trudge along the wall and fill it in. Perfect.

So for the whole day I landscaped. Oh, apart from the brief hiatius of trying to find Ulysse. So much for counting your blessings. The blighter escaped his electric fence compound.  But he has cantered up to his female friends at the riding school and there he is going to stay for a bit. Well secured behind more electric fencing, and with Claude keeping a stern eye on him.  I suspect I will have to bring him back on the weekend.

So where was I? Scooping soil. No wonder the little olive trees weren’t thriving; they are perched on almost rock. This exposing of the boulder is proving to be a fantastic feature. But two of the olive trees are in the way.

I’ll have to do a bit of research and see about moving them elsewhere. For now I’m just leaving them as exposed little islands of green while I remove the rest of the soil around them.

I moved a bit further along the wall and decided I will stop at the big olive tree. It’s a mess of weeds under there.  And the wall above is even thicker with brambles. But I can’t do the while bank. There’s a sceptic tank in there somewhere and it just needs a neat strim to keep it looking less messy.  I am staying well clear of the strimmer right now, alas.  But before Christmas it ought to be sorted.

It’s a beautiful and sunny autumn day. Just perfect for being outdoors and being busy.

I am babysitting this week for Jean Daniel.  He is attending a one week meeting in Stuttgart for all the national parks in Europe.  He is now vice president of the Parc Naturels des Monts d’Ardeche, a very prestigious honour, but one that comes with many more responsibilities.

So I leapt at the chance to return the favour he did for us in watering the garden while I was in Australia, and generally being an attentive neighbour when storms break and the power goes out.

So I get to take charge of one elderly snooty cat (he is ignoring me this week), and one tonne of frisky young stallion, Ulysse.  Each day I am to trek up onto the terraces behind Jean Daniel’s house and see that the horse hasn’t escaped.

It’s disconcerting because as soon as the horse catches sight of you way up on the mountain he whinnies with joy and thunders down to greet you.  He skids and skitters on the steep slopes and doesn’t look like he’s going to stop in time.  I brought one apple with me to give him. But tomorrow I’m definitely going to take up a bucket.

That way he will be distracted while I pick my way carefully back down the terraces.  He’s too big a horse and way too energetic to be close to when you are trying to get out of his way.  Arab stallions, full of beans.

Once that was done I attended to a much safer job. I have checked all the strawberries in the vegetable garden and potted up the runners that seem to have grown since I last looked.

Most of the older runners are well rooted in the earth, so I was able to snip away the umblical chords that are attached to the parent plant.

And now I am summonsed up to the forest. I need to be the chain saw buddy, and start collecting sticks.  It’s time for chipping. A major autumn task.

Every six months or so you are obliged to ogle pictures of my compost bins. Not madly photogenic, but it’s the heart of the garden.  I was weeding so much yesterday that the wheelbarrow loads of green matter for the bins were backing up in a holding pattern. There was just no room in the compost.

So this morning, suitably trussed (sciatica) I knelt down beside the right hand side of the compost bins and spent a wonderful time scooping up perfect compost, riddling it (that’s using a thick sieve for the cooks among you) to remove the sticks and grubs and ending up with perfect crumbly damp gold.

I’ve stacked them up inside the cellar for use on my new 10 metre long hedge I want to plant this winter.  The sticks and mystery grubs (possibly of benefit so I didnt want to dispatch them) all went into another compost bin which I don’t empty more than once a year.

And then I was left with a perfectly empty bin.

But not for long. I forked the left hand contents into the emtpy right hand one, (for air, for exercise, for compost – ought to be the farm motto) and then had plenty of room to add the new stuff.

I have tucked up the right hand one to keep it warm and break down faster, and will now concentrate my efforts on more weeding and more filling of this last bin.

Simple. But very very dull for the non enthusiastic waste managers.

I really should try to come up with something more pithy for the headline today, but I can’t think of one right now.

It has been an odd day. Heavy rain.  Well 14mm which is great news and might wash away some of the powdery mildew that I spotted on the pumpkins in the vegetable garden and tricky as I had planned so much weeding.

But instead I did what all good gardeners do in inclement weather: I  lurked in my potting shed. And it was marvellous.

Lots of sorting of pots and tidying and even some propagating. I’ve potted on some of the little buplureums that I sowed last month, and pricked out some of the eucalyptus seedlings.  The Sturts Desert Peas look exactly like peas (funny about that) but aren’t ready to move up a grade of pot yet.

And in between showers, I dashed out to the calabert garden and took yet more cuttings of the santolina plants.  And the perovskias (Russian sage) which have looked so great.  I wanted to take some cuttings from the caryopteris as well, but it’s flowering like mad and there are no suitable branches for me to cut.  A perfect little plant.