strimming is the bane of my existance. every year for the past few summers, i've spent as much of my time as possible avoiding our "spacious" garden. every now and again, I'll give in to the griping and venture out to mow the lawn, maybe edge something vaguely bed-like. but strimming... oh my word. I hate it. I hate it like I hate trying to find a local political group I can actually agree with.
There are two edges to the sword. The first is the hay-fever: mowing's bad enough, but start throwing bits of everything six feet into the air, and my lungs (and eyes and nose) will hate you. And then there's the vibrations: imagine holding a hundred bees or something to understand the buzz.
Now, our garden is relatively tidy, but there are two vast and (recently) unconquered area: the old vegetable patch, and the Lower Orchard. Tackled half the vegetable patch to relative success tonight. But the Orchard's not even worth it. It's so overgrown now that the pond, which is at least 14 ft deep and 40ft across in a rough circle, hacked out of the natural clay, is just about full of the evil gunnera. We have loads of brilliant plum and eating apple trees, all starting to bow under the weight of their crops, but can't get anywhere near them. And I'm supposed to tackle them with a lightweight, plastic-bladed strimmer? No hope. I got about three feet in tonight and fell back in dispair.
Still, it's supposed to rain tomorrow.