Dingly Dell

Things to report: when you're ill your fingernails stay very clean, at least if you're me; washing up is a tedious and interminable bore, but I'm still shying away from getting a dishwasher because it just doesn't feel 'green'; wood pigeons have sex the entire year around, most of it within hearing of me; nettles have the sweetest smell in early summer just when their sting is at its most lethal.

Sex was very much on my mind this morning as I watched two hares in the field behind me. At first I thought it was one animal racing around in endless circles, but then I realised a male was closely chasing a female for the purpose of mounting her. On and on the chase went, the male determined not to give up his pursuit and the female equally set on preventing him from satisfying his natural urges. I watched with increasing horror, realising that the sally would have to give in or die in the process. For a moment I felt relief that I am not an animal, yet this is the lot of so many women, the international news a constant reminder. I turned away and buried my head in the crossword. Ostrich.

Denuded hazel, still blocking the view

A burst of energy brought me to the garden shed earlier where I gathered up secateurs, machete and saw for a job I've been itching to do. At the bottom of my garden running towards the field are three trees, a hazel, an elder and a field maple. About a hundred yards into the field stands a solitary oak, and when the land had been freshly ploughed you could clearly see that a hedgerow once traversed the field from my trees to far beyond the oak, the earth a distinctly different colour along this line. I love trees, but my hazel has been coppiced many times over the years and now needs a firm, nay brutal hand. Dozens of shoots have sprouted in the ground around its main trunks, and high above, the ugly dark green leaves dominate the skyline. I decided weeks ago to have it reduced, and 'Did' is due on Tuesday to do the job. But I've been itching to get started, and now I have. The garden is littered with long slender branches, and already there is more light. But a quandary has been uncovered: I wanted the area around these trees to be a sort of dell, to be planted with bulbs for spring and wildflowers for the summer, and to house my beehive when I get one. Without the bulk of this tree it will be much more open, less of a secret spot. What to do? I should wait for my country oracle to advise me on Tuesday. As long as he doesn't suggest ferrets.