A few weeks ago friends helped with chopping and stacking some dead cypress wood at the top of the garden. Some of the large prunus on the front bank was cut down too. I left its tidying for another day. Then I broke my arm falling on another steep bank. Now my right forearm is into its fourth and, I hope, final plaster (or ‘stookie’, as it’s known hereabouts) and it was a nice sunny day after many rainy, muggy ones, so I got on with some tidying. One-handed, it takes a certain patience, but the Boggy Brae demands that always so, with a left-handed wielding of loppers (just as well I have always used my left hand almost as much as my right!), a bit of nudging with booted toes, and some springy stomping on scrubby twigs, a small log pile appeared on the front terrace and a twiggy scrub pile—future bonfire material—by the field fence.

 

Hogweed has begun to flower and both it and Whorled Caraway are attractive to Soldier Beetles. Ringlet butterflies attended my work and grasshoppers sang a summer tune.

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