Pruning and digging out by the root

We spend Friday and Saturday taming the edges of the garden. This is necessary because some of the hedges are now so tall we’ve lost our view, because branches are upsetting our phone and broadband lines, because fruit trees are losing sun, and because we’re losing lawn space as hedges creep forwards. It's not the right time of year for such work but we are careful, looking out for nests and avoiding anything with fruit or nuts so as not to deplete the birds’ foodstore

Our phone and broadband lines disappearing into a tangle of branches

Even though nothing in our house runs on wood, I persuade Frog to saw up larger chunks and I add them to my woodstore under the shed. I like to be prepared for the collapse of civilisation.

My woodstore under the shed

The dog passes the time barking down rabbit-holes through the chicken wire put across the hedge by Frog in order to stop her barking down rabbit-holes (and then excavating them and then coming inside covered in mud).

The dog, frustrated in her attempts to get at the rabbits

 

Frog does the destructive work – chainsawing and lopping – and I drag things to the bonfire. It is soothing, mindless activity. We make a good team. The sun shines. I am happy.

Frog at his favourite sort of gardening - the destructive sort

I started the weekend sad. Summer is drawing to an end. My lovely niece left Exeter last week after three years at the university. The novel, which is semi-autobiographical, is forcing me to relive some of the worst times of my life.

I’m trying to dig those times out by the root and leave them to die in the sun. They can’t be tamed. Pruning is not enough. But on Saturday night – bone weary, my hair stinking of smoke – I dream for the first time ever of a way through.