Surprise! I'm still weeding

🌿 Field Notes — Week Whatever This Is

🔥 Heatwave Horticulture & The Cauldron of Doom

The long and laborious task of weeding my roses back into reality from an overgrown pasture has been made even more brutal than usual by the ridiculous heat we’ve had. I think it’s safe to call it a genuine heatwave. Getting to the field early is essential — the cool morning lasts about ten minutes before it turns into “strip off all unnecessary layers immediately (possibly naked if public decency laws allow) and enter the cauldron.”

This week I’m trying some videos for your delectation, because photos never quite show the scale of the project. The treeline marks the stream. Here’s the field in glorious sunshine and birdsong, plus the single mow line I managed before the ride‑on refused to start again. It’s booked in for a fix and service next week, so soon I’ll have my brush‑cutter back and my rightful place as land steward restored.

🌊 Stream‑Side Survival & Himalayan Balsam Wars

By 11am I’m done in the open field and either retreat for an early lunch or shift operations to the stream bank to tackle the Himalayan balsam. It’s a fairly large patch — cleavers, nettles, and mostly balsam. I tried taking photos at the cardinal points, but this 360° short shows it far better. Thankfully there’s enough shade that I only need to replenish two litres of water every twenty minutes, and I’m at no risk of becoming a ginger scorch mark. The sound of water and the deep green canopy make the 35°C feel almost bearable. Sweat still pours off me in rivulets, but the sun is softened by the trees. And yes, of course I dipped my hands into the cold stream while clearing the edge — icy handfuls to the face, down the back of my neck… lush. Had to let my hands dry before I could get my gloves back on though.

🌸 The Pretty Menace: Himalayan Balsam in Bloom

This is what Himalayan balsam looks like in full flower. Bees love it. The seed heads — almost agapanthus‑like — produce pudgy pods that are numerous, edible, and slightly peppery. The loss of bee food has been offset by planting 600 roses, so hopefully the bees still consider me a friend. The slipper‑orchid shape is surprisingly exotic for an invasive species; it’s not the usual ugly, sterile menace that supports nothing.

However, invasive it absolutely is — and ridiculously easy to spread. Below are my top tips for dealing with it, plus a close‑up video showing the roots and how easy it is to pull if you catch it at the right time of year. It’s a deeply satisfying activity, and we’re about halfway (maybe a little more) through this patch. Next week I’ll show you the finished site and the huge pile I’ve made ready for composting. I’ll ask Paul to barrow it to the compost mega‑system I’ve nearly finished building. It’s the last push to get the weeding done, and then you’ll get the full before‑and‑after impact of this patch being dealt with like a playground bully caught smoking behind the bike sheds again.

🛠️ Coming Up Next Week

Next week should see the big mower fixed. I swear I could ride that thing into Mordor and Sauron would mind his toes, so I’m really excited about that. It’ll have such an instant visual impact — a proper “look how hard I’ve worked in this heat and still enjoyed it” moment.

I won’t mention the stop‑off at the Triumph dealership that nearly broke my bank manager’s brain. It was only £9.5k for a Speed Triple. I genuinely cannot see the issue. But in the interest of peace and harmony, I did not purchase two wheels and will stick firmly to a sensible four.

🌹 And One Last Thing…

Oh, one last thing. I suppose I should mention that I got my first rose. Yes, you heard me — my first rose has appeared. Tiny, but oh so beautiful. The variety is Champagne Moment, and it most certainly is. It feels like I’m getting there — that all this graft is paying off and the good life continues unabated.

🌿 Signing Off

More videos, more sweat, more balsam, more roses next week. Pray for cloud cover, or better yet, rain. Thank you so much for following my field‑to‑farm project — slow burn and unglamorous as it is. My sprained ankle is almost better; I still can’t get my wellies on because it’s too swollen, but it did mean getting new shoes I can slip on and off until it calms down and reconsiders its life choices. I hope to see you again next week.