Cotone-dis-aster

In my quest to tame our new garden, I decided to thin out an old Cotoneaster bush that had gone rampant and was restricting the light through the patio doors

It soon became clear that secateurs where inadequate for the job, and so I quickly progressed on to branch cutter, then  handsaw, finally  resorting to an electric fret-saw, such was the job.

As you can probably tell from this progression, in my enthusiasm, what had started as a simple thinning out exercise ended up being a full extraction.

However, I had an uneasy feeling whilst taking out this old bush, almost a premonition that something was going to happen. Was it going to get it’s own back on me for being so ruthless, another Karma experience. Also, doesn’t coton-e-aster rhyme with disaster, surely an omen? Yes I know some pronounce it coton-easter as in egg, but please allow me a little artistic licence.

All was going well until I came to deal with one particular branch that was thick and awkward, a bit like me according Mrs Netall, where the fret saw blade kept sticking. I found however, that if I used the fret-saw with one hand, not to be recommended by the way, whilst pressing down on the branch with the other, then the blade would cut freely.

There are times when you know you shouldn’t be doing something the way you are, and this was one of them.  Unexpectedly the branch suddenly gave, and as it travelled to the floor, I followed it, proving the laws of gravity.

“Oh Flipping Heck" (or words to that effect), I muttered as I fell, landing not on the nice soft lawn, oh no, but on the concrete patio to the side.

Let’s just say, I’m now of an age when I don’t bounce anymore and so fell quite heavily. Lying there, I had time to reflect on my stupidity, and wondered what I’d managed to chop off, but luckily the fret-saw had fallen away from me.

Eventually the revolving stars dissipated and I was about to shout for Mrs N to help me up, when I remembered  she was away for the day.

It was a bit of a struggle to get to my feet unaided admittedly, but at least her absence saved me from the usual ear bashing I get in similar circumstances, and those familiar words of hers “ So, just remind me what job you used to do”. Yes folks, I used to be a Health & Safety Manager !

Rambling On

I’m back, no excuses, so as Led Zeppelin would say let’s Ramble On !

Having moved house during the blog’s hiatus, I now have the responsibility for the upkeep of a fair sized garden as well as the allotment, and being more of a farmer than a gardener (as I explained here), it’s taking some coming to terms with.

I suppose you could call it a cottage garden, in that there are many beds of  “herbacious perennials”, as they say on Gardeners World, which I really don’t know much about. Here's a couple of shots from earlier in the year.

My inner control freak is telling me to just dig them up and replace them with something more manageable, like turf ! However I am resisting the urge, and just letting things be for this season, whilst I at least learn what things are.

As a consequence, the allotment, which has been a little neglected this past year, is getting a spring clean, in summer, to within an inch of its life. You can almost see the weeds cowering as I march down the plot with freshly sharpened hoe at the ready, passing my trusty leeks standing proudly to attention.     

As for the snails, that have been having a field day with the wet weather and my laziness of late,  weapons of molluscular destruction have had to be deployed, yes slug pellets. I’m reluctant to use them, but however many lettuce munchers I chuck into next doors plot, they never seem to diminish.

Talking to one of the old fellas, he tells me that they actually return home to the plot, “you know, like pigeons”, he said,  and that he’d actually done an experiment where he’d marked one with some nail varnish , took it a good distance from his plot, and within a day it had returned. 

Now that’s just weird, I mean, what the heck’s he doing with nail varnish down at the allotments !