AS our garden is quite large, it can be a never-ending task to keep everything under control and ticketty-boo.

However, one of the most satisfying chores is mowing the field. These days, the little grey Fergie tractor is really behaving itself, starts on the button and runs like a bird and handles the grass topper very well.

I recently did an unexpected modification though when I was cutting under the sycamore trees, near the stream, where the branches hang low. Too low, I found out, and the vertical exhaust pipe was suddenly no more. But, every cloud and all that, we were able to fit a horizontal pipe which is much more practical.

However, I did get a bit of a shock the first time out when the new pipe started smoking like a teenager behind the bike shed, but luckily it was just some lacquer burning off. Only a mild panic then.

Anyway, it’s a peaceful chore on a sunny day, chugging up and down the hill. I cut about half the field in wide paths and leave the rest as a home to little mice and shrews.

It’s quite bucolic, the Fergie engine throbbing away, especially on the steep bits, and getting the tricky bit of turning downhill and being careful the heavy mower doesn’t push you too quickly as gravity takes hold. Bit nerve-racking initially.

The field is becoming full of meadow vetchling, a member of the pea family with bright yellow flowers, and the purple flowers of common self heal, a herbal plant.

There’s also a number of self-set oak trees I’ll have to try to move. The mowing is keeping the brambles down allowing the natural flowers and grasses to proliferate.

It’s quite magical to see it evolve and the smell of fresh cut grass is positively heady.