A hymn of praise

mighty mowerI’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.

wildflowers in grassBut 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. wildlfower mowing

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