Short back and steep sides

Is there anything more satisfying than looking down a huge 100m long terrace and thinking – almost neat?   Almost perfect.   Almost tamed.

I guess mowing gives some sense of satisfaction. But with mowing you don’t have to perch halfway up a steep slope with a spinning blade in your hand hoping like mad you don’t fall off.    Mowing is for wimps.

I’m just cross the photo doesn’t show how steep or how nasty the weeds are. This is the refined just grass section of the terrace.   Futher down there are vinca vying for strangle space with brambles, dead hollyhook stalks, sneaky chestnut seedlings, nettles and that fun thing, grass.

It took a tank and a half of petrol, and tomorrow I must finish up, get the mower (hope it didn’t hear me call it a wimpy machine) to do the flat bits, a rake to bring down the huge amounts of thatch (I’ll have to think of somewhere for that – possibly as a mulch around my apple trees) and a pair of secateurs to get at the brambles that were just to thick to strim.

Happy days.

And happy days for his royal contrariness. He now alternates between two boxes in the potting shed. One cashmere lined, the other a rough but warmer wool.   Action shot of him ecsatic kneading the cashmere before settling down to an active snooze.