Grasslands

The difficult sod!

There is nothing quite like a well laid lawn to set off one’s garden. A fine green sward after all, is a delightful backdrop in any well cultivated garden. So thought Nigel as he surveyed the fruits of his horticultural labours, he had his very own well laid lawn. For their part, his neighbours too seemed impressed with his handy-work, and they cast admiring and perhaps even envious glances over his front garden. All that time Nigel had invested in clearing the ground of weeds and stones, and the time he had spent in the leveling and firming of the soil in preparation for the turf, was surely worth the result. Now with a little regular watering and mowing he would reap the reward of having the lawn he had always dreamed of, a lawn to be proud of. There is it has to be said a lot of lawn envy in gardening circles, but if there has to be envy it is surely better to be envied than to be envious. Tired but contented Nigel put away his tools and retired for the evening, he would sleep soundly tonight, it had been a job well done.

Morning. As Nigel drew back the curtains from the window in order to reveal his now pristine lawn, he couldn't’t believe his eyes, for the lawn was gone; there before him were the same turf rolls that he had laid ever so carefully on that long afternoon. His lawn had been un-laid it was re-rolled; all his hard work was undone. Incredible as it was he was a loss to understand why and who would do such a thing. Nigel was not amused by this madness by this prank; he was also unable to think why anybody should do this thing this madness to him. It was certainly not at all funny, no not funny at all. The rest of Nigel’s day, he knew, was to be taken up with the relaying of the sod. More tedious today than yesterday, his gardening endeavours were not nearly as satisfying. Upon completion the restored lawn looked fine, there was no lasting damage. And maybe one day he would look back on this irritating episode and laugh out loud, maybe but not today, Nigel’s sense of humour had deserted him, and just when he needed it most. Tired but satisfied he had resolved the problem and saved the lawn, he went indoors.

Numb. Transfixed, not again surely not again, but there, on morning of day three, once again was the absence of a lawn. Nigel saw that the turf strips had again been lifted and re-rolled, maybe not quite as neatly this time, but none the less re-rolled they were. Unbelievable. This was beyond a joke. His pride had been eroded by the idiot who had deconstructed his garden.

Once more Nigel restored the lawn and as he did so he recounted his story to sympathetic neighbours, passers by and indeed anyone who would listen. People expressed their sympathy but some struggled to suppress a smile. They were added to Nigel’s ever lengthening list of suspects.

Darkness fell and the epic battle to lay that lawn had worn Nigel out, though as tired as he was he did not sleep easily.

In the early hours of the morning he heard a noise.What was that! There it was again, it was a shuffling sound coming from outside the house, from his lawn from his thrice laid lawn. Racing downstairs Nigel threw open the door to reveal the culprit eerily illuminated by the street light.

"Cyril! What are you doing?"

And it was Cyril his neighbour who was stood amidst the re-rolled turf . Unashamedly Cyril continued to lift the turf and he seemed amazed at the fuss Nigel was making about it.Cyril was a celebrity of sorts and possibly the biggest pig you ever saw, at least as big as a donkey.This good natured old tusker was pampered by the farm workers he was also a children’s favourite, many of whom brought him tit bits of food. He particularly enjoyed wholemeal bread, a whole loaf at a time. Domesticated he may be but he had still retained those primeval pig ways.The scent of the newly laid lawn and the damp earth must have been too much for him. Cyril still knew how to rut for his food, and Nigel can testify to that. Across the road at Sparrow hawk farm Cyril's owners were unaware of his nocturnal wanderings, the big boar was always in his enclosure on a morning. Cyril's pen was made secure and the turf in Nigel's garden was finally laid

And even Nigel can laugh about his lawn now.

Grass trials and tribulations

With a shift towards Xeriscape type planting we will experiment with different grasses planted en mass or as specimens. I have seen examples of gardens where grasses have helped to link different planting ares together. However some grasses can be a bit thuggish and may need to be restrained to prevent them taking over the garden.

Town and country

This photograph locates our finca (marked in red line) on the edge of the pueblo although we have some protection from the oak and stone- pine trees on one side we are also bounded by open farm land. The fields which are fairly small are used for the production of barley.

Open terrain and grazing sheep mean that we get weeds in abundance. We have watched the wild flowers and grasses over two seasons and we are decideding which we can retain.

Xeriscape style gardening may be the answer for our hot dry plot, using plants native to the region.

Bright golden haze on the meadow.

The continuing sequira or dryness means that the grass is looking decidedly dead. However the autumn rains when they come will soon revive it.

Neighbours have planted a new lawn and it is verdant beyond belief. Such care has been lavished on it and such an awful lot of water too! 

There is however trouble brewing, the children have a new temporary though sizable swimming pool and their activities and those of the family dog will soon leave their marks on the lawn.

In this pecking order only I seem to get pecked!

To say that Mrs. Gravy is taken with the grass cutter is an understatement. Whenever I approach her grip tightens on the handle and she sentences me to further rock breaking!

As I watch she heads off west into the sunset. She is a wonderful little woman but is getting smaller all the time. If she continues she could reach Portugal by midnight............No! Wait I am summoned; ah! the machine needs fuel and she needs water though once done I am again dismissed, sent back to the rocks. 

In this pecking order only I seem to get pecked!

The System works for her!

We have began to cut the finca but before the machine could be utilised we had a lot more rock clearing to do. Both of us lift any loose rocks and place them in the wheel-barrow, and any embedded and protruding rocks I remove with a pick, and add those to the collection. Once sufficient land is relatively clear Carol starts the machine. I walk ahead of her, as she cuts, picking up those rocks we missed on the first attempt, already we feel we are making progress.

The rocks we remove from the finca are tipped into the ´pit of doom´ which we had previously excavated in front of the stable block. It is a trench 60cm deep 20 meters long and 3 meters wide and will take some filling!

Mechaical troubles

The strimmer is playing up badly the starter cord keeps breaking through the plastic pulley of the starting mechanism. After several home repairs and a couple of trips to the repair shop it is getting more than a little frustrating.

It is on such a trip to the repair centre that we begin to look into the purchase of a grass cutter. Mrs. Gravy is quite taken with a ride on tractor type machine with all the electronic features you could imagine. At over 2000 € it is beyond us at the moment and so we settle for a more reasonable McCullouch machine which has the features we really need.