Cutting the grass (patch)

Messy straggly grasses

Oh how I envy those lucky souls with seas of grass to tame with a ride-on mower. Not for them the stress of wondering how best to maintain a puny couple of metres of grass marooned within a the confines of a patio and raised flowerbed surround. My patch is nowhere near large enough for a mower (honestly, I don’t think that it’d even really fit) but it’s just slightly too large to cut with a pair of scissors. So my somewhat uneasy compromise? A strimmer for most of it and then a quick trim around the edges with kitchen scissors to get any stragglers. Bear with me, I know it’s mad, but it actually works quite well, and perhaps just as importantly, it’s small enough to store easily in the playhouse. The garden had become something of a jungle, a fact that delighted the GarlicCats who spent days crouched nose-deep in the grass playing at being cats in African grasslands waiting for a passing gazelle (substituted here in South West London by a passing beetle). Once clipped and raked, a backbreaking task with my minuscule hand rake, the grass looked even sadder. 

Playing “mighty hunters” pre-pruning

It was patchy in the extreme and the turf clearly hadn’t taken in places but had been hidden by the overgrowth like a bad comb-over. The builders are coming back in a week or so to re-seed the bald bits but in the interim at least it looks neat.

The cats are above my menial labours (literally)

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We farm a three acre smallholding in Hampshire, England, having fled London in pursuit of the good life for our little family. We mess about with an assorted menagerie and try to be as self-sufficient as possible in meat and fruit and vegetables whilst enjoying our plot and an outdoors lifestyle with our son. I am the luckiest person that I know.

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