Archive for the 'Around the garden' Category

A unique day

December 22nd, 2011

There is only one day in the year I specifically look forward to.

Today.

The Winter Solstice.

The nights are no longer drawing in, and from today I start to look forward to longer days.  I know there will be no noticeable difference tomorrow or the day after or for some time for that matter, but that’s not important.  What is important is knowing that tomorrow will not be darker than today.

There is a remarkable event here in Ireland at sunrise on the Winter Solstice.  Some of you may have heard of it?  At the moment of sunrise on this one day of the year, the suns rays shine across the garden and light up a pile of old whiskey bottles in the back corner of the garden.  Many historians and archaeologists have commented on this unique feature of my garden and some have dated the whiskey bottles as being there since the Bronze Age, and who am I to argue with the experts?

I suppose it’s nearly time to start thinking about putting up some decorations around the house?

Thinking doesn’t cost anything.

The sweet smell of success

June 26th, 2011

I did a bit of grass cutting yesterday.

I love the smell.

Very relaxing.

The neighbours can fuck off though.

If they want some they can damn well grow their own.

Smoking a strimmer can damage your health

August 15th, 2010

I decided to do some strimming yesterday.

The old estate is getting a little out of hand and the only way to tame it is a show of brute force.  I do my gardening with slash-hooks, chain saws and strimmers.

My strimmer isn’t one of those pansy ones that plugs in.  No.  It is an honest-to-God power yoke with a two-stroke engine.  I think I may have overdone the oil to petrol mix a tad as it can be quite smoky.  It was a calm day, so when I fired up the strimmer, I disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke which enveloped me for the hour or so I was out there.

For hours after I finished, I could taste the burnt oil.  I realised at that point that not only had I been breathing burning oil for an hour or so, but I must have indulged in a massive dose of carbon monoxide, not to mention a lethal dose of other toxins, poisons and carcinogens.  I would hazard a guess that an hour of that cocktail would be equivalent to smoking around a thousand cigarettes?

So where is the health warning?  Where is ASH when you need ‘em?  Why isn’t the State looking after my health?

“Strimming can cause a painful death”

“Strimming can lower your sperm count”

“Want to quit strimming?  Contact your doctor or pharmacist”

The Nanny State are missing out on a nice little niche market here.  I don’t know how they missed it.

Strimming may not be addictive [unless you are a very strange person], but it is highly contagious.  I have noticed in the past that whenever I start, I am the one to shatter the peace and quiet of the countryside.  By the time I have finished though, there are usually three or four strimmers, chainsaws or other two-strokes running in the neighbourhood.

The thing that concerns me most is that strimming may lead to harder drugs.

Like four-strokes?

Tree fellers

May 12th, 2010

I am quite tired today.

A neighbour decided to fell some trees a few days ago, and since then I have been woken early every morning by the sounds of chainsaws and tree munchers.  I can’t even have my afternoon nap, and that makes me irritable.

By this morning, I had had enough.

Today I hired my own tree fellers [actually there were four of them] and they came with a bigger muncher than the neighbour’s one.  They arrived, and battle commenced.

The neighbour’s muncher tried to compete, but mine had a deeper, more angry note.  My lot had more chainsaws too.

It was not a pretty sight.  The neighbour’s lot realised early on that they hadn’t a chance, but made a valiant, if futile attempt to fight back.  The battle was swift, vicious and bloody.

Of course the neighbour’s lot lost.  They packed their bags, their chain saws and the muncher and they went home with their tails between their legs.

My lot did a great job of cleaning up the mess.  There isn’t a leaf, a twig or a drop of blood left.

At last, I can have my afternoon nap.

Quiet, please…….

Shooting foxes

January 2nd, 2010

Our family seems to have expanded over the holiday period.

As well as a dog, two guinea pigs, an occasional hedgehog, a squirrel, Bertie the Heron [who I haven’t seen in a while] and a semi-tame wife, I now seem to have a fox.

Reynard first appeared on Christmas night.

I don’t know how the fuck he gets in or gets out, as the fencing here is nearly good enough to keep Sandy from wandering.  He’s quite tame and occasionally leers at Sandy through the glass doors.  That doesn’t go down too well with Sandy as you might imagine.

I always know when he’s around as he trips all the silent alarms, though he hasn’t discovered the minefield yet.

I have tried photographing him, but the bugger is a bit camera shy and fecks off when he sees me trying to get a shot.

I did manage to get a shot of him last night, while Sandy was trying to tear a hole through the wall beside me.  Photographs are silent, so you can’t hear the sound of teeth on concrete, which is probably just as well as it is second only to the sound of a nail being dragged across glass.

It’s not easy shooting foxes.

Reynard

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