A spot of jackson pollocking

There’s strimming; and there’s strimming. Mine was the second type. Wading through grass so high that you have no idea what’s underneath.

And in the meantime getting spattered with green goo from head to toe.

Here is my before and after shots of just one path up through the garden.

At first I couldn’t actually find where the path was.  There are chestnut steps here that mark the start.  So I just waded  in and hoped for the best.

The grass is still damp, so I can’t really cut as low as I would like.  But at least Artur can now twinkle down the steps to the potting shed (and me) without having to leap over tussocks.

He loves getting wet, but only on his terms. And his preferred method is to stand in a bucket of water rather than brush past so much cold wet grass that he has to climb into a box to warm up. And get dry.

I hope he appreciates my work.  The thing is I have about an acre of grass to strim in complicated parts of the farm. So where do you start?

Start close to the house; the parts where you get wet just brushing past on your way somewhere else.

My somewhere else is always the potting shed first thing in the morning. It’s where I store all my kit: kneelers, gloves, knife for asparagus (a big handful today in case you are wondering), and ear muffs for the strimmer. And the harness that makes strimming almost but not quite pain free.

But I do find the view of the walnut path from the courtyard so beguiling that I decided to try getting this one tamed too. I love the curve.

It needs mowing to get it really pretty.  But being thigh high with lush growth, I couldn’t possibly be that cruel to the mower. So a first pass with the strimmer and it will do for now.

If I was really keen I’d get the rake out and sort things out properly.  But I’m going to plant out cabbages instead. Much more fun.

And speaking of fun, what am I doing inside? The sky is almost blue. And it’s not raining.