Grass, it’s wonderful stuff. I’m talking about the stuff that grows in fields here, not the stuff it’s illegal to smoke. Us horse owners have a strange relationship with it., either we are stressing because there’s too much of it, our ponies will get too fat, get Laminitis and die. Or we are stressing because there isn’t enough of it and our paddocks are turning into barren, muddy wastelands ! We are never happy.
When Hal and I first viewed Albert’s Bungalow, at the beginning of March, I thought the fields were ideal. Gently sloping with just the right amount of grass, not too rich, but not too weedy either, and in remarkably good shape after the dreadful wet winter we had just had. When we finally moved in at the end of May we discovered we had something akin to four and a half acres of African Savannah ! It was waist high out there. Honestly, you could have lost a Ripley sized dog out there! Hal and walked around the boundaries so I could start learning the lay out. It nearly killed me! In places it was almost boob high!
I need to get more fit and agile.
A local farmer agreed to cut it for nothing as long as he could take it for silage. Result! They must have thought we were mad, but we couldn’t help getting childishly excited at the sight of various tractors and attachments on our own land. It’s a fascinating process .
Hal wants his own tractor now.
Once the grass was cut we had to get some fencing and gates put up. Then, finally Magnum and Sapphire came home.
Now the adventure really begins.