The grass really isn’t greener….

So there I was feeling all smug about having a real patch of actual grass that worms could tunnel underneath, that GarlicBoy could feel between his toes, that I could feel good about. 

And then I cut the grass a couple of times and came to the conclusion that I couldn’t ignore it any more. I had bald patches. It didn’t look too bad when the grass was a bit overgrown but the bare patches of earth got really swampy and muddy when it rained and it looked very sad when it was trimmed. So I called the builders back, pointed out the the turf hadn’t taken and they promised to re-seed the garden whilst I was on holiday. What I came home to has turned out to be a salutary lesson in being careful what you wish for. My poor poor patch of grass is gone, hopefully to return in a month once the seeds have germinated. 

Sad sad patches of nothing

In the meantime I’m suddenly stuck with a load of raised beds filled with seedlings that need my care and protection from the weeds making their way through from next door and no way to get to them without killing the new grass. What should I do? I’m currently investigating the possiblities of using a ladder as a bridge but I have to admit it makes me very nervous. Oh, the price we pay for our smugness. Thank you for this lesson in humility karma, I get the point, please stop now!

Look! Beetroot seedlings being bullied by weeds! Argh!

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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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