Here it is. The unveiling of the former vineyard in all its strimmed glory. It looks so different from this angle. I’ve never been able to photograph it like this before as there was a wall of brambles and an elderflower tree in the way.
Now I didn’t just go down to the vineyard to show off. I wouldn’t walk that far down the mountain just to take happy snaps. I had my rake with me.
I wanted to rake out the bonfire pile of ash and make sure it was completely cool. And I’m glad I went; it was the perfect warm smoking pile of heat. I ought to have lobbed a few large potatoes wrapped in foil there once it had died down. They would have been roasted to perfection.
I raked the pile as much as I could. I stupidly wore my wellies instead of my work boots. So it was a bit risky. I don’t want to melt my new wellies now that I have the perfect pair.
I never understood the passion people had for their Wellington boots (gumboots). I always found that one’s socks slid down and tried to escape their confines and you would always get blisters. But I had not factored in the perfectly fitted boot. It makes a world of difference.
Buoyed up with delight at the sight of the new look terrace, I picked my way down to the next terrace and popped out onto the road. I needed to post a letter in the box that is attached to the outside wall of the farm further down the mountain.
This bracken and broom terrace really needs my attention.
You have probably never seen the farm from this angle. As you drive up from the valley, this is the first glimpse you get of the property through the trees.
Well a glimpse of the stone terraces snaking up the mountain.
I never see anything but the dratted bracken that needs hacking back. It is plentiful. It is a sort of skirt that the farm seems to insist on wearing; a waving floppy sea of fern.
It lives for another few weeks. I actually had the mower primed and ready to go instead today.
It was overcast and cold. I thought it would snow this afternoon. But I powered on. I had the second and third terrace to mow. It’s never an easy prospect as there are so many submerged rocks in the undergrowth.
Well the eco gods were obviously alarmed at my attempt to go to the dark side. The weed killer didn’t work. I suspect the stuff Jean Daniel gave me was so old it had become inert. Or I messed up the dose. But whatever the reason, I still have an organic farm, despite my worst efforts.
So it will be out with the strimmer and on with the hard physical stuff of getting it out of the walls and the rocks the old fashioned way. With sweat and effort and under my own steam.
I finished the mowing just before dark. I need to go back down and collect the bags and bags of mulch.
They will go on the soft fruit orchard mulch. It’s a bit slimy as it’s just grass, but it’s better than nothing.