All words and photography © Nina Nixon
Our garden is situated on a hill. Like most are in our little village. I literally begged the estate agents to find us some outdoor space on the flat, but to no avail. They just don't exist on these hills. So the hilly part of the garden rarely sees a mower, which suits me just fine. Long grass and buttercups grow by the masses in these patches so we've started to fondly call it 'the meadow'.
But when it comes to the yearly trim of 'the meadow' it's like competing in our own little sporting event.
Frogs run the gauntlet whilst the kids jump up and down, shouting instructions from the sidelines.
All are rescued, saved and scooped up, rehoused temporarily behind the greenhouse. Until the chaos has subsided and the grass has grown long again.