In clover

My husband has not cut our back lawn for several weeks.  This is not because he dislikes mowing.  He did this for customers many times, quickly and efficiently and now with our pocket handkerchief sized lawn and an electric mower handed on to us by my family it is done in a matter of minutes.  And I record our gratitude also for the outside socket installed by the helpful guys who did our complete electrical rewire last August.

The lawn care regime is now regulated by current ecology advice (for which consult the RHS website) and a fondness for wild flowers.  In our lawn we have white clover, visited by bumblebees, an unidentified variety of small yellow flowered plant eaten by the woodpigeons, daisies and buttercups.  The latter are his favourites.  He will however take a sharp tool and remove dandelions and plantains.

I have mixed feelings about this.  I recall the Fifties when lawns were cut as short as carpet.  When the lawn grasses grow straggly I want to nag him to get out there and do something. But I like daisies too and I recall the sweet scent of clover on hot days in the south.   Do I really care if our lawn with its apple trees in the midst looks more like an allotment patch than a bowling green or the football pitches in the park behind us?  Each to its own purpose.  Our lawn continues to be shared with the birds and the bees.