Where was I? Strimming. Well reporting strimming. Nicolas very bravely turned up at eight o’clock on the dot. He must have slept well after that long day of strenuous work. And after a pause to get all the heavy equipment out of the car we walked the course. For day two.
The lower terraces are made up of different sections; the first three terraces below the road are the ones where I put in the most work.
The first terrace is my favourite as I get my mowing jollies by being able to keep it neat and cut and orderly. And believe me, orderly is quite a feat in a mountain garden. That’s why I do it as it is such a stunning contrast. Your eye needs a pause simple green in among the trees.
But the steep sides. Oh my. A home to all sorts. Some wanted – annual grasses, a few hollyhocks, mauve – the original geranium. But underneath lurks so many things including self seeding elderflower trees, brambles, nettles and vinca.
But he is more deft. Or sure footed. Now it looks bare. It looks parched. It looks bereft of curves and grass. But give it a good bit of rain (hah!) or just some time and it will come back to something more of a grassy lawn. Rather than a putting green at Quirindi in a drought.
There are two sorts of cutting blades in use here. The heavy metal blade came out for the area which we call the oak forest in the lower terraces. That’s because it’s an oak forest.
But carpeted with all manner of self sown cherry and chestnut seedlings. It all had to get cut down so we can see our way all through to the oaks lower down in the forest. Curse the successful germination of our trees. I wish I had taken a before shot. You’ll have to take my word for it that it’s much better now.
What a jungle. It’s rather heart breaking.
I’m starting to revise my plans for an orchard here. How on earth am I ever going to control these weeds?
I could cover it in plastic for a year or two. An eyesore that would cost a bomb. Mulch it? It would kill me getting down to the field with bundles of material. I could mulch with the bracken of course. But I have just called my neighbour at the eco museum further round the mountain to see if she wants it. Agnes often uses bracken to demonstrate how to thatch roofs with the material. And bless her, she has no sea of bracken lapping across her land.
I’d rather it went to a good home. And maybe, I can’t believe I’m saying this, I might abandon my plans. And just let the bracken win.
I could plant fruit trees much closer to the house. The three terraces below the road are being wrestled into shape and I could even get the hose to reach terraces two and three.
But it’s too hot to make design decisions. I need to get out the rake and do something with all this marvellous grass. The bracken, for now, I will leave to my neighbours.