|My new recycled hat - 20p, OK so its kinda mustard coloured but for 20p I think its rather fetching.|
Well todays been a rough and tumble kinda day, I had a post on the merits of the noble and beautiful Calendula and all its virtues but to be honest having fought, and I mean fought hard and long with my lawn mower today I'm less than inclined to bestow the virtues the noble Marigold, it deserves peace and tranquility for its blogging, not a very rumpled, half battered lassie nursing her lawnmowing wounds and cursing still at the petulance of lawnmowers who, quite frankly, don't know when to just behave. And, as I spent most of the day discussing the behaviour of said petulant mower with it (yes the mower), and how gardeners require a decent sense of humour to be able to survive and I did think of a blog I love, where garden humour abounds (sorry Linnew, humor in your spelling), 'Women who run with delphiniums'.
That being said, today started rather well, a bit dull but not windy. You see you cut your hedge back, on saturday in a 40 mph wind, fearing the worst winds will come and low and behold the wind bogs off. Typical. I actually watched a cow munching on a branch which had clearly fallen over the fence (I've saved the rest for cuttings, wrong time of year I know, but hey why not try?), cows it would appear, eat willow. Thankfully only when cut, I find it hard enough to grow in the wind without cows taking to dipping into my garden for food.
Now the hedge don't look half bad cut - I've trimmed it at the fence level - instantly the scary bending and crazy dancing it does in the wind is reduced. Rather a trimmed hedge than a smashed one. I'm aiming to cut the rest to ground level next march/april - coppiced willow does well here and having done the research (how cool is it to say that?) my research concluded that cutting willow back after the first year lead to significantly lower survival, whilst cutting back after two years was better, the plants were more established. Therefore I'll cut mine back after two years, in line with excellent current research (!), pertinent to Orkney. The cows are also happy, they can now see over the fence into the garden.
And, so to tales of pesky lawnmowers who don't know their place. This beast is recycled, (freecycle) and had one careful male owner previously. I'm neither male, nor a very careful owner or mower. And, boy does this mower object to that. As we started our mowing task today, in the garden, I won't call it a lawn, that would envisage images of beautiful turf, lets face facts I've a field fenced in for a garden, the grass is at best 'improved pasture' the grass content is, quite frankly, minimal, its a combination of thistles, docks, buttercups with a bit of grass in there to save me being done by the trades description act. I think the lawnmower objects to this in principle. Its a 'lawnmower' not a tractor. We do have a mini tractor/sit on lawnmower, who's quite frankly to posh to mow, or so it thinks, it prefers jaunts to the beach and being a tractor. Therefore me and the trusty electric recycled mower, cut the green stuff that we call the grass.
Well, when I say we cut grass, we do this when the mower feels like it. Mowing is my job, not the job of the teenage boy, he hoovers, I mow, a decent enough swap as what is mowing but hoovering whilst in the garden, my domain. Today, however, the mower decided it was too wet to mow. Which as I explained was true, but given the forecast, it wasn't likely to get any better and today was the day to cut the grass. It was also too long, it objected. Again, I know, read the previous sentence, its been wet for days, or even weeks and the only dry day we were polytunnelling. Not its fault, it complained, it could have done it in the dry. Again, I tried to persuade it into action. Again, tempermental. Eventually after alot of wrestling, we succeeded. However, as we finished up, it decided to mangle the remnents of the marigolds. Just for kicks. I'm sure I heard it laugh or at least snort.
It sniggered and blamed the dog, the dog blamed the chickens, in hope of extra grub if they were in the bad books he'd get more food. I blamed the cows for distracting me with their moo-ing as I went to mow a circle around the marigolds. Cows find mowing a pasture which is pretending to be a garden lawn, hysterical, they have no idea why we don't just eat it.
|The crime scene, mashed up marigolds, perfectly cut 'grass'|