Sunday things (541)
by Max Akroyd
Yet another turbulent night last night with the wind rolling off the Monts d’Arrée and around our valley like a giant canon ball. Fortunately everything outside, natural and synthetic, remained attached to the landscape.
The big pigs are more effective at demolition and had, once more, uprooted their electric fence. Mental note: it’s time to change and extend their grazing area again in order to distract them from this latest mischief. Their field is separate from the garden and they’ve probably only accessed an eighth of it so far, so there’s plenty more to go at…
I’m ignoring the fact that today is a day off and getting out in the garden this afternoon. In the ungainly sprint to Christmas you’ve got to take any opportunites that arise because the agony of shopping may strike at any time!
The afternoon was bright and breezy. I concentrated on strimming, not my favourite thing – to be tied to a gardening weapon of mass destruction- but it did its job of clearing the way for a lot of next week’s plastic mulching and opening up the big pigs’ new pasture. The wind carried off the (s)trimmings to that undisclosed location these things go to, and it was relatively pleasant work if the existence of warmth in December doesn’t worry you at all…
Like a shabby representative of the Ministry of Funny Walks, I strode out the remaining areas which require mulch down next week. Only about fifty squre metres left I reckon, but it has to be done soon or the soil won’t be vacated by the weeds in time for next year.