|One evil minion|
|One hedge sadly in need of a trim|
When the your hedge gets so overgrown it resembles an evil purple minion, even a novice gardener like me can tell that it might be time for a trim.
Our hedges needed cutting before we went away, and surprise, surprise, they hadn’t magically cut themselves before our return.
|Top of the hedge makes a break for freedom|
Last Sunday, with the sun shining and the prospect of imminent visitors, I finally unearthed our shears and laid waste.
While we were on holiday, we visited Montacute, which has particularly amazing yew hedges. Apparently they got a starring role in Wolf Hall, but perhaps I was too busy watching Damian Lewis ponce about in big boots to take them in.
While we were at Montacute, I watched one of the gardeners wielding a petrol-powered hedge trimmer and saw the top tip of putting a picnic blanket under the hedge before you start, to catch all the clippings.
|There is a picnic blanket under there somewhere, honest|
We do actually have an electric hedge trimmer, from when we attempted to keep the privet hedge in our old house under control. I thought it would make crisp hedge cutting a breeze. In practice I find it absolutely terrifying, convinced that either I’m going to cut straight through the power line, or lop off a few of my limbs. So I retreat to the low tech alternative, get snapping with the shears and pretend it’s exercise for my arms.
Ta dah, final result.
|One shorn hedge|
|Rediscovering the picnic blanket|
As an added bonus, we didn’t even have to trek to the tip. I managed to cram the hedge clippings into the garden waste bin, on top of all the cut grass, and they’ve been whisked away in the fornightly collection. It’s all rock and roll excitement round here, I’m telling you.
Now there’s just the small matter of the other hedges…
|Better get the shears out again. I’ll just ignore the weeds.|