Lawn waits as I’m nearly trampled by herd of bullocks

Most plant nowadays during May, but the more cautious, or perhaps we should say, the traditionalists, still prefer a June planting.

It makes complete sense and so, for the next three weeks or so, we still hope to be busy at Reedley ... weather permitting of course!

In fact, so long as temperatures hold up, a bit of rain actually really gets stuff growing. Rain and decent temperatures mean our lawn grows like lightening.

Indeed, the other night, the unkempt nature of our grass was on my conscience as I worked out in the garden. I was determined to get our patio and drive areas spick-and-span before I worked on our patio tubs, and was using a flame gun to get things clean.

I got quite carried away really as every trace of moss, weed and fallen leaf was incinerated. I even managed to do it without setting fire to the fence or conifer hedge. But time slipped by and it was after 9pm before I was ready to tackle the lawn. Too late I thought to get the mower out and risk annoying the neighbours.

I shouldn’t have worried. The fields around our house were targeted that night by the agricultural grass cutting contractors who rumbled and clattered their way into the night as they raced to get the grass harvest in. The result my grass was left uncut while the fields all around were scalped. Then the rain came and I now have a jungle to attack.

Those fields were the scene of a separate distraction. Driving home one evening, I came across a frightened bullock wandering at speed through traffic. I couldn’t bring myself to ignore it and, with the help of two horsey ladies, managed to corral the bullock near the field where a whole herd of bullocks was contentedly grazing ... at least that was the case until I opened the gate!

As I pushed the gate open to facilitate the return of the prodigal bullock about 40 huge animals suddenly stampeded towards me. The horror of my circumstance dawned on me. I might die here.

I managed to slam the gate shut before the entire herd egressed onto the highway and turned right into the path of the returning prodigal. To my amazement, the beast then hurdled the hedge with the grace of a steeplechaser, just as the grateful farmer turned up.

Sometimes I wonder if I would be better just carrying on. If I had, my own grass would be nicely cut and I would not have run the risk of being trampled.

Thing is, it just isn’t my way.