by Max Akroyd

I finished the mowing today. Which is a bit like getting to the bottom of the wash basket and declaring that the laundry is finished. It was a beautiful afternoon with remnants of summer warmth in the sunshine but a tiny taint of winter chill on the breeze.

Before I could complete mowing the path at the top of the field I had to remove a lot of chestnuts first:


I’d normally recruit one of our children to do a clear up like this but the chestnut shells are as sharp as sea anenomes. Wisely, our wise five year old waited until the mower had been over the ones I’d missed and gathered enough escapee nuts to fill a little box. However, the sudden sound of approaching gunshots and orders being barked in Breton meant our children, dogs and a stray hen had to be gathered up and evacuated to the house as the local hunt passed through.  Bit of a nuisance, but it’s their paysage and that’s that.