The New Luddites

I have come across a strain of Ludditry within the family. When I bought the rotavator there were looks of consternation at this allegedly, new-fangled technology; technology which is thousands of years old, albeit mine is petrol driven. 

There's a dedication here (meaning Hayley and her sister) to the 'No-Dig' method of cultivation, which is fine if you have a flat patch of land and a couple of raised beds on which to practice your 'No-Dig' religious cult. If you have excavated a huge pond and the spoil has been piled around the edges, comprising clods of clay and turf, then 'No-Dig' is going to result in an area of 'Do Nothing' scrub that's impenetrable to a mower, let alone plantings. The No-Dig Taliban won't even touch it, regardless of the promises made. My plan is industrial in scale, with enough 'taters to keep us self-sufficient. You ain't going to do that with carboard and tiny raised beds.

The ride-on mower is tolerated because I'm the only bugger who ever mows the lawn. Granted, Hayley mows a postage stamp around the house with an electric mower, but it wouldn't make a dent in the rest of the garden. After having transformed the field into a verdant patch some 6 years ago, using said ride-on mower (actually, a prior one), I stupidly acquiesced to leaving some patches unmown - for the sake of 'bio-diversity'. These patches have grown in area and now comprise the majority of the land. I wouldn't mind, but outside of our boundary is a bloody huge common that's only cut once a year.

We've got acres of bio-diversity just a stone's throw away - we don't damned well need any more. I want a garden to enjoy, with a few flowers and veggies that don't take up half a year to manage because I eschew labour saving machinery.

Yesterday I tackled the pond spoil, which had become overgrown with weeds and stuff, making a good fist of getting a decent tilth and grading it such that the mower can at least get up it.

Pleased with the result, I wanted an area where I could use modern technology to grow my own 'taters. Well, you'd think I'd asked for all wildlife to be decimated.

I was finally granted a play area - but look at it! It's the worst patch on the whole damned property. It's the last remaining residue from the spoil produced by digging out the cabin foundations and is almost 100% clay. I'm a refugee in my own bloody garden.