Cutting the grass

Today I must get on with the grass cutting, here in this place by the lake where Jennifer and I live.  The grass has to be cut because of all the people that are coming for the Norse weekend.  Some of them will be camping and mostly this year we have left the grass as we do always, preferring that it should remain as habitat, shearing it just once in the season to prevent it going back to bush.

Cutting the grass is hard work since all I have is an ordinary old electric mower.  It's work I like, however, although I am always sorry as I plough on through vetch and the last of the goatsbeard, through sweetpeas and the wild sunflowers that are only now coming into their own.

Cutting the grass disturbs things -- grasshoppers mainly and leopard frogs.  I am careful of these but usually don't have to worry.  They can usually be counted on to make grand leaps in some direction or another to get safely out of my way.

Cutting the grass reveals paths made by others I have not always been aware of.  This year it has been by beaver who have stopped in on many an evening, surprisingly enough to eat wild flowers and grass.  (They would also have had a go at the trees but we've protected those with chicken wire.)

The picture shows where all this will be happening.