I always have to capture this moment. As it’s all downhill from here.
The rain will stop and we will probably slide into our usual drought-stricken summers. The mower will get put away and forgotten until late Autumn.
It takes me about a week to sort out the mowing on this farm. Two full days if I’m dead keen.
But this year I have gone at a more leisurely pace. A few hours each day. Considered curve making.
Venturing into the duck pond area which is so much easier now the mulberry has had a hard prune.
I was forever braining myself on low hanging branches when trying not to skitter downhill with a heavy mower at full speed.
The best bit of all this has been the return of the first terrace. One year after it was ripped to bits to make way for a huge septic tank. I feel I have my lawn back at long, long last.
I mowed about four days ago (Covid brain, can’t remember dates!) and it is already getting fluffy.
If the rain lets up I’ll nip out and take a more detailed shot. The terrace is 100 metres long, so it gives you marvellous contemplative exercise.
And the terraces below that are often sporting.
I’m not aiming for anything as pretentious as a sward there. Just to cut the heads off the self seeding chestnut, cherry and oak seedlings. Stop the wretched brambles and blackthorn from settling in. And generally defying gravity with a heavy bit of machinery that wants to head off the edge of the narrow terraces.
The horses can do the top terraces above the house. But there are too many trees here on the lower acres that they love to strip. And ringbark. Who knew fresh bark was so tasty? So it’s human intervention for now.