On Thursday I went and walked around our land. It has no livestock on it so the grass just grows and the silver wattles are aiming to take over the place. I keep the noxious weeds under control and am trying to control the bracken the old fashioned way by cutting it with a fern hook. From what my father told me this means cutting it at least 3 times a year. I'm finding that time is, as usual, is a finite resource in this process. In the picture you can see the brown of bracken that has been felled and more bracken to go. I do love the sense of place that comes from walking around and seeing, hearing a smelling the land, plants and animals being themselves.
The low light fog sat in the valley all day. In the hills to the south the sun did its winter's best brighten up the country.
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