We will have been at Footlights four years this month and I have almost won the battle with the thistle that was overgrowing my pastures and meadows.

At first they looked like forests of dark green and purple spears and I rather liked them but Hubs declared war with round-up preferring to nurture the blue-stem grasses.

I found that they could easily be pulled up after the rain so I spent the next couple of years tramping the fields in my wellies and  uprooting the prickly offenders.

I suffered acutely with chigger bites until I discovered that sulphur, packed into a sock and liberally applied before venturing into the tall grasses, greatly helped.

This year I seem to be winning the battle.  Hubs and I went out and pulled up the few plants we found sparsely dotted through the fields, before they flowered.


It was wet, the rain had flattened patches of tall grasses where thistle used to flourish,


and we both got soaked wading through the gently waving mix of wildflower and blue-stem with Charlie,


Our harvest was substantial though,


and it awaits its fate in the fire pit once the rain stops and things dry out.

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