A spot of slaughter

Daisy the Deer is still hanging around. We caught her in our headlights when we drove back last night from dinner. Not a good sign. She has already mauled the apple tree about. Almost ring barking it in her enthusiasm for the sappy soft wood. I have a protective wire around it now. But didn’t calculate the consequences of her appetite.

Up early (ish) to do an hour’s watering and weeding with the new water system. No more tadpoles making a bid for freedom luckily. And then it was down to do a bit more strimming and tie in of the last rows of vines. At last it is finished.

Walking back it is easy to be diverted by the chance to cut more poles for the fourth wigwam in the vegetable bed. The chestnuts have been coppiced so beautifully they throw up perfect straight thin poles. Perfect for the garden. And then it was on for a spot of Verbascum slaughter.

We have a plethora of the weeds. What do you call a field of verbascums? A vastness of verbascums? A vileness, a voracity? A verbosity? Too many of the meaty things. Naturally I am prejudiced. If they were a delicate mauve or subtle bluey pink I would find them charming and take pride in their effusion. But yellow? Blech. Doesn’t fit into any of my fantasy planting schemes.

And then in a moment of madness I took the strimmer up around the fruit trees and had a bit of a go. And naturally managed to murder a branch of young blueberry bush that I planted in the wintertime – must make a better wire guard around the little bushes among the weeds if I am to strim indiscriminately.

There are plenty of the sanguisorba variety of seedlings successfully sown in the potting shed. But nowhere to put them in my tiny patch of trial flowers. A quick look in the gardening encyclopaedia saved me: they tolerate a light shade. Well that’s a relief, as there is only the patch of soil under the cherry tree left. Amazing to think that in 17 acres of land I am cramming plants into such a tiny space. But the garden is a season off. And that is all that has been cleared.

Gave Bernard a little care package of garden produce. So lovely to be able to give a bit back to such a helpful neighbour.

Final task for the day is the theme of this two week trip. Hose work. Now that I have free spring water gushing out of the trough I am profligate in the extreme. The cabbages can’t believe their luck. They were watered lavishly under the sound of mighty rumbles of thunder in the distance. It’s like washing the car before it rains.
But the storms may miss us, so I kept it up until dragged inside for dinner.