All the eragrostis curvula grasses cut back. The ground mulched, the grass cuttings packed up into bundles and taken up to the new (not yet built) permaculture bed at the top potager. Almost one hundred metres of grasses.
But no. One more day and it should be done.
I’ve said that for three days now.
And then I will probably not step a foot on this steep bank for another year. Yippee!
At least I am learning my feline supervisor lesson. For days now as soon as I head to the steep bank I hear the rustling and the staggering behind me. And yes, Artur wants to come and visit while I work. But it is madly inconvenient. If I am trapped with the world’s oldest most doddery cat on my lap I can’t cut back more than four grasses within my reach.
So now I have a cunning plan. I bring two kneeling pads and ‘accidentally’ leave one close by that can be claimed for the duration of the afternoon.
He falls for it every time.
And just so you can see something that is not dull and beige. Have a look at the things I have been doing to break up the monotony of the grass cutting.
Polishing my copper pans.
And even my vases.
Desperate for distraction or what?