An Ardeche sward

Well, if you close your eyes and squint you could call it a lovely lawn.   Two days of work and I’m delighted it’s over. A quick luncheon and out to the potager.

I keep getting beguiled by our indestructible mulberry. Who would have thought it could provide so much aesthetic pleasure in so many seasons. Well, not in winter. At that time of the year you just think it’s dead.

I can’t decide whether or not to get the mower serviced tomorrow when I go to town. Possibly not as I haven’t given the main lawn its final haircut.

The birch tree side has just had its last trim. (She says optimistically.) What I really need to do is get the strimmer out and do a bit of the banks on the road up to the house. And the bank below the fig tree. I want those hundreds of daffodils to appear in a smooth low growing bank of grass rather than have to battle through knee high tussocks and weeds.