Meadow mania strikes again…

Meadow mania had slunk into the recesses over the winter partly as so have I, preferring to stay indoors - dealing with the swirling sense of dread I have developed. But D has been busy with his chainsaw doing some first class but highly exuberant cutting. 

The thing is it centred on the hedge that borders the meadow, above where I planted my exciting stretch of native shrubs. Firstly he removed the fence, then erected a swing and fire pit seating area and then fully moved into the stable filling it with tinkers trappings… a cast iron pig feeder, sheets of corrugated iron, chains, pieces of tarpaulin… the list is long and resembles stuff he accrued in the Mozambican bush. 

Then he moved up the meadow and began to slash and cut, with a mind to control the old leggy hedgerow and various hedgerow trees that were happily minding their own business and growing away. I accept that hedgerows need to be tamed so they don’t encroach too much on the land… however the debris he created is immense. Huge unwieldy heaps of branches. And a spray of twigs all over my meadow and then worse of all, piles of shavings from processing the many branches. They look like mounds of excrement from a very large wood louse. When I get into one of these frenzies I can think of little else. So thank goodness I managed to scoop up lots of these droppings yesterday but as I scrabbled I revealed burnt nutreified ground that fed the groundswell of panic. I have no sense whether it’s understandable, with the lens of an unimproved meadow owner to feel this level of emotion or is a sign of severe mental decay? Or both…
A huge twig pile…grass wilting underneath… home for lots but can’t now be moved…
See the beautiful log pile… the rough with the smooth
Shavings I scrabbled up… a positive step but…
Source of my anxiety… meadow mania springs forth

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