Dejected in the Meadow

Monday 17th September 2012
More fine weather

Well, I like to think of it as a meadow, but its really just ungrazed grassland and this year it's been taken over by sow thistles. Initially growing in clear lines, which I've since learned are a sign of ancient ridges, it has slowly spread, encouraged by this year's mega conditions for weeds.

One day it will be a meadow, but at the moment it's the last part of my 5 acre plot which remains slightly untamed.
Last year Don cut back the long grass for me early in the year and it was alive with bees and butterflies during the summer. So my plan was to get it cut and under control, then to keep it short, cutting a few times during the year, for the next year or two to get rid of the taller weeds and encourage a thicker sward.

So it was with some excitement and a great sense of anticipation that I climbed up into the tractor this fine Monday morning and went for a spin around the tracks in the meadow. The Fod, as my tractor is known, is very heavy on the steering but I basically had this great, chugging machine under control most of the time!

This was the first time I'd driven the tractor on my own.

Buoyed up by this, I continued with my plan and, with a lot of help from Don, hitched up his cutter to the tractor and began to scythe my way through the jungle of overgrown grass and thistles. In a few hours time it would all be chopped down and a big job would be out of the way. I had a real sense of achievement. My fear of machinery would be one step closer to being overcome and I would be confident and independent enough to manage my meadow on my own.

Until...


As I looked at the machinery behind me, I noticed smoke! Quite a bit of it.
Basically the sow thistle stems had jammed up in the machinery. Don came over to extricate them and I carried on, in slightly wiggledy lines but still crudely getting the job done. A couple of times I had to stop and pull out more sow thistle stems, but if I could just get it done the once and keep on top of it then things could only get easier in the future.

But then, while cutting a fairly straightforward strip of grass, more smoke. This didn't seem quite right and when I lifted the cutter, there, hanging out, was a broken rubber belt.

One broken piece of machinery.

 

My heart sank there and then. Not only would I not get the job done now, but I had broken Don's machinery and I felt awful about it. I sheepishly towed the rig back and knocked on Don's door, broken belt in hand. He could not have been nicer about it, but I still felt totally dejected.

Just as I was really starting to feel like I was getting on top of everything for the first time, this goes and happens.
Just two more hours and the job would have been done. Now I would be faced with a whole autumn and winter of pulling oversized weeds before I could have another bash at the grass in the spring.

Meanwhile, over the weekend, Don had had his meadow
cut and baled by a local farmer.
This is what mine should be looking like.

I'm normally pretty optimistic about things and don't shirk a job, however big. But right now was one of those moments when I felt totally deflated. There's been a good few of them in our couple of years here, but they've been more than compensated for by other things and I'm stoical enough to remember this when things go wrong.

Anyway, thank you for indulging me this one miserable post. Tomorrow I'll bounce back. I always do.

A day in the meadow

Saturday 21st July 2012
The first day of the summer holidays

Devil Birds
A barn owl briefly floated over the meadow at first light this morning as a party of eight swifts shot through at amazing speed. One of my favourite birds, these all dark, screaming aerial scythes are also known as Devil Birds. One of the last migrants to reach our shores in late Spring, swifts are always in a hurry. They don't even stop and land for sex, preferring to do it mid-air (an amazing sight that I have only witnessed a couple of times). Amazingly, this morning's party of eight may well have been on their way back South after their brief breeding season foray into Britain's insect laden summer skies.
And this year, who would blame them for heading back to warmer climes early? They really can't have enjoyed their usual insect feast this year. In fact, I heard today that 11 of the 12 cuckoos satellite tagged by the BTO are already on their way back to Africa, most lining up on the northern shores of the Mediterranean, their departure dates on average almost two weeks early than last year.

The Heat Is On
But of course, we Brits know never to give up on the weather. And just in time for the beginning of the summer holidays it looks as if we may finally be getting some appropriate seasonal weather. If you've already hunkered down for winter, and who could blame you for prematurely hibernating, wake up, get outside and feel the heat!
I'm sure every gardening and veggie blog that's been bemoaning the weather just about all year will by now be celebrating the sun, the light and the heat, as will the limited selection of plants that have bravely soldiered on for weeks with little promise of reaching maturity.

Down In The Meadow
As people headed for the beaches or their allotments, I had other plans. Sue's holidays had started and I was going to make the most of it, so into the meadow we headed. It seemed the perfect day to enjoy a sip of our delicious cider ...
after a long, hot day pulling ragwort, that is!!

With the ground still sodden and the ragwort's yellow diskettes of flowers shouting out from the tall grasses, there was no time like the present. We headed in, waste deep, trowels in hand, wheelbarrow at the ready. Armed with reinforcements for the day, I decided to tackle some of the sow thistles too. Their roots give easier than the ragwort, but when I decided to grapple with a monster of a plant there was only ever going to be one winner. Well, that's what I thought until I felt that big muscle at the base of my back give a sudden twinge as something gave way to the strain. Maybe I really did get a year older yesterday!

At this point, I decided to concentrate on the ragwort, suspecting that I had a day at most to get the job done before my back refused to allow me to easily reach the ground.

When we reached the far end of the meadow, we did allow ourselves to stop and take in the beauty. There is something special about spending time in a meadow. Butterflies skipped through the air all around us, mostly ringlets at the moment, and a Marsh Harrier hunted the surrounding fields.

After a while, we headed back towards the house on the final stretch, and by the time the job was finished we were most certainly ready for a glass or two of ice cold cider.



Sue lays exhausted after the first day of her holidays!!

With renewed energy, I set to work trimming some of the lower branches from the ash trees, a treat which the pigs certainly enjoyed.

Ash - a rare treat for the pigs.

Meanwhile, Chick of Elvis has started laying again
and has left her two chicks to fend for themselves.
She doesn't even roost with them any more.

Eventually, as late evening approached, I gave up and stopped work. And that was the cue for the aching and twinging to begin as my poor back took centre stage, complaining most vigorously! I normally look after my back very well and rarely does it let me down. Right now though, I really do have too much to do. This is not a good time for an injury.

Tomorrow the polytunnel begins. I've got a deadline of Wednesday for the cover to go on. That's the first day this year when, hopefully, heat combines with not a breath of wind. The first job... Dig 18 holes. That'll test the back!

Ragwort and Thistles - Poisonous and Prickly

Sunday 8th July 2012

More wildlife at first light.
This leveret relies on sitting tight for protection.

At some point last night Daisy and Gerald must have sorted out their sleeping arrangements. All was sleepy under dramatic skies this morning.



As I said in yesterday's post, I took a bit of a battering yesterday. So my aching body would appeciate a day of leisure today, with a certain Wimbledon final scheduled at the heart of it (and, less historically, a manure collection). I spent the early morning taking in some of the details in the garden. 

 

There was too much dew to venture back into the meadow.

But it looked beautiful as it bejewelled the drooping asparagus ferns.

The chickens gained height

to avoid getting their

feathers drenched

and Cocky fluffed himself up big.

Back in the spring, Sue peppered Weasel Ridge
with poppy seeds.
Her efforts are now being handsomely rewarded.

 

And so it was that I pottered around for a while, browsing on dew-covered raspberries and strawberries, delightfully crunchy sugarsnap peas and the freshest of garden peas plucked straight from the pod.

All a far cry from yesterday's exertions. Reward for my efforts.

Ragwort and Thistles.



I actually happen to like both of these plants. The deep cut leaves of ragwort topped by sunny explosions of yellow florets. And the stark, sharp outlines of thistles supporting those wonderful globes opening into deep purple tufts so beloved of bees and butterflies.

Cut in May, they'll grow back in a day.

Cut in June is much too soon

Cut in July, sure to die

(or say goodbye)

That's the old rhyme about thistles. So it's time for action! In fact I'm still in two minds about the thistles. They're so very good for wildlife, but the problem is that if I let them flower and seed they end up everywhere. They're a complete pain to clear though. So spiky I can't even pick up the cut stems with gloves on. Instead I have to pick them up using the shears. Leave them on the ground and months later those needle like thorns come back to haunt.

Maybe I should just leave one patch, far enough away from the bare soil of the veg patches to not cause too much of a problem. 
No. Those seeds get blown everywhere. Better, I think, to replace them with something less invasive. Probably teasel, so good for the bees in the summer and the goldfinches in the winter.
There'll always be a few thistles that get through the net. But I'm going to learn from my mistakes of the past. Whenever I have selectively allowed certain 'weeds' to grow because I liked them, they have invariably betrayed my trust and ended up swamping everything around!

As for the ragwort. Well, if everything I read were true it would surely have taken over the Earth by now, wiping out all wildlife that stood in its way.
True, it's a complete pain to eradicate. Let it flower and, as a biennial, it should die. But how many seedlings will pop up elsewhere? Cut it and it just resprouts stronger, even changing it's growth habit to behave like a perennial. Try pulling it and invariably it snaps at the base, leaving the roots to sprout new growth. Even digging it out would leave fragments of root, each reportedly giving rise to a new plant.

Now, this would not be a problem if it weren't for the fact that ragwort is one of only five plants which landowners are obliged to control. For it is poisonous to livestock, particularly horses. Again, if you believe everything you read it would seem that a horse or a cow only has to look at a ragwort plant and it will drop dead.
Of course, all of the above dire warnings come from the chemical companies, who'd just love you to feel you had no option but to use their products. It might be easier, but my experience tells me that with persistence and hard work I can get on top of the problem. But it is a problem I need to keep on top of, for if I let it get out of control I will never be able to sell hay from the meadow should I wish.

And now is the perfect time for the job. The ground is waterlogged, even with patches of standing water. It's hard to remember we're in July! The plants are towering up and their disks of yellow flowers announce their presence.
So, with a trowel to loosen the soil I set to work prowling around the meadow pulling and digging every plant I could see. Every plant I pulled was carefully collected for burning.
Most plants yielded their long tapering roots and even the largest came out with most of their rootballs intact. OK, so some of the tiny bits of root will regrow, but there is no way that inflicting so much damage on a plant can result in it coming back stronger.

Of course, if I am eating my words in a couple of years, I can always give up my principles. Though even then I'll spot treat each individual plant rather than blithely wiping out every broadleaf herb in the meadow.