The first step was finding and bagging all the concrete-mix bags, Tizer cans, chocolate wrappers, energy drink bottles and one suspiciously festive mince-pie-sized foil container. Along the way I also found a number of other objects that I won’t be wanting in our new garden:
I’m sure that lead flashing will come in handy at some point, and maybe those corroded pegs; less sure about the old bouncy balls, or sharply rusted netting.
I also unearthed our five pallets, destined to be new compost bins:
Annoyingly, they’ve been damaged somewhat by having boots arbitrarily bounced over them, as the privet was removed and my old woodpile dragged somewhat to bits:
(The cat, by the way, has loved playing around in this. I think she thinks she’s seen a shrew.)
I’m hoping that, based on my neighbour’s pyrotechnics a couple of weeks ago, the presence of new privet in all of this means it should burn nicely, but I’m rather waiting for a dry winter’s day and evening to do it, so I can store the ashes somewhere for use later in the garden.
The apple wood, on the other hand, is too nice to burn straight away (we’re hoping for a wood-burning stove in the new year, if worries of Brexit don’t price us out.) So I’ve elevated the logs on a couple of segments of concrete fenceposts, and stacked them against the wall:
I’ve taken care to leave the dampproof course, and its associated vent bricks, uncovered. Wood piles dry because of air flow rather than being covered entirely from the elements: all the same, I’m glad I’ve done it today, as snow has been forecast for Yorkshire, and that sloping roof should keep it off nicely. Assuming—none of it’s fixed in place—it doesn’t all just collapse under the extra weight….
Extracting the bigger logs has left me with a huge pile of apple brushwood to probably burn:
When the leaves come off it then I hope it’ll be easier to see just how much of it is big logs hidden among the twigs.
As the garden starts to look more and more bare, I’m more and more grateful for the plants that do remain. The hebe, euonymous and vertical shrubby tree I haven’t identified yet are some of the few survivors of Fenceocalypse:
It makes me feel a bit sad for being slightly tongue-in-cheek rude about the euonymous previously. The ones you get on housing estates everywhere might be uninspiring, but they’re used for a reason: they’re stalwarts.
Meanwhile, the acer still looks lovely, even with only a handful of leaves left; especially now it can be seen silhouetted against the sky:
Whereas the apple tree was both in the wrong place and unsalvageable, I might have to see if we can work miracles with this, next year.