This is killing me. I’m going to make it my last strimming session for a while. Even while limiting my work with the heavy machine first thing in the morning; I’m not dekinking my back for the rest of the day.
And if I do anything twisty or hefty – like crawling about under a cabbage net or two planting out sixty brassica seedlings; then it’s early to bed taking a medicinal whisky, the size of which would have Winston Churchill raising his eyebrows.
But it is so satisfying. That’s the trouble. You start out with a jungle of thigh high grass and reduce it to an almost sward in just half an hour.
But the slope is the playful bit. It’s a bit like ballet in heavy work boots and a swinging scythe.
I’ve avoided the climbing rose again, but have concentrated on the area just outside the monster wooden doors of the guest house.
And I secretly love this part of the farm. As it is unchanged from what it looks like about one hundred years ago. Except the terrace looks like it is swallowing the barn whole.
It is north facing and I have to think hard about what I would plant here. I could go shrub mad. But I’m going to see how the rest of the shade garden goes for a few years first.
And the maintenance could be even mightier if I create yet more garden beds and areas. Enough already, says my sore back.
I did strim the lovely wooden chestnut steps just opposite this barn.
I even ventured up to the annoying suckers from an ornamental tree planted in the 70s and out of control. The main trunk came down – possibly a viburnum? It did have lovely autumn colour, but it suckered over an area of about 50 square metres from the main tree.
And then I had to give myself a stern talking to. No, you will not get carried away and keep on cutting this enormous part of the farm. Step away from the machine. Put it in the cellar and go and have a cup of tea.
And a nice lie down.