it will be tidy when I've finished

The pile of Eleagnus prunings is growing.  One more day of hedge cutting should do it.  I say that about all sorts of jobs, and then they end up taking half the week, but in the case of the hedge I think it's true.  I've pretty much finished taking out the great overhanging lumps by the terrace, and at the other end where it's shaded by the oak tree it hasn't grown nearly so much.

The shade cast by trees, or competition from their roots, will slow hedges down.  We saw the effect on a visit to East Ruston Old Vicarage, where clipped holly hedges passed close to trees, and dipped as they passed.  It's something to bear in mind when designing any formal scheme.  You can use a run of the same kind of plant across a site, but if growth conditions are more favourable in some parts than others, you won't necessarily end up with a uniform feature.

Cutting the hedge hard back where it was bulging out most dramatically has left a couple of large holes in the back.  I hope they fill in over time.  The front did, so fingers crossed, but next spring's daffodils are going to be displayed against an extremely mangy backdrop.  It had to be done, though.  Next time I think that planting a hundred yard hedge of Eleagnus x ebbingei would be a good idea I must lie down until the feeling passes.  Yew is the answer, or hornbeam in a damp site.

Tidying the garden has so far made it a quantum messier.  Branches of elder and dead holly are scattered over the lawn outside the conservatory, together with the wire netting and stakes I removed from the shrubs at the end of the wood.  There are piles of dead tree lupin stems and perennial pea stalks on the path down to the lower lawn.  They've been there a while, because I forgot about them when clearing up the last time the Systems Administrator cut the lawn, so when I do move them the grass will have gone yellow underneath.  The daffodil lawn has almost disappeared under the avalanche of Eleagnus prunings, and my work seems to have spread another layer of dead Eleagnus leaves over the lawn, after I'd carefully raked the first lot up.  The dead leaves are large, brown, obvious and persistent, another good reason to plant yew or hornbeam.

The lawn edges have been trimmed at intervals in random stretches, dictated by where the hens had got to and so where I was working while I watched them.  I still haven't finished cutting the long grass on the bank, or clearing away all the grass I have cut.

Out of chaos will come order, I tell myself, and anyway there's only us to see it.  Goodness knows how gardens manage that are open to the public full time.  They must be better organised than I am, and not trying to simultaneously make black bean soup and keep an eye on a flock of vagrant chickens.