Work?! That's not what I call work!! Try weeding a sharply sloping bank, gluteus maximus drawn as tight as the highest harp string while the unforgiving sun fries all around. That's me. And I'm tender.
The next stage in the development of the 'front garden' has begun. Unhappily, I've compromised and sprayed the thick vegetation and now I work through, casting down chunks of concrete and brick as I pull out weed roots. I've come in for a breather while listening to England's bowlers struggle to winkle out the Indian tail-enders.
Our splendid home has a rather uncared for feel as one approaches from the drive:
- The mounding looks like a wasteland.
- There's a sea of black plastic covering the ground where I hope to create our raised kitchen garden beds. Wood and rubbish is used to weight the black plastic and this must be disposed of.
- A pile of stones and mud glowers by the side of the parking bay.
- The front door approach is uncared for and un-started
- Weedy patches look at each other from either side of the path.
- Finished planting the mounding
- Have removed the black plastic and rubbish and created the raised kitchen garden beds.
- Moved the lorry load of stones and used them as the paths in the fragrant garden
- Have tidied and planted the front door approach
- Cleared the weedy patches on either side of the path, added new topsoil and planted with multi-stemmed Himalayan Birch, in the two patches and also where the stone pile once was.