At fræse eller ikke at fræse - To machine cultivate or not to!

I mellemtiden var der spørgsmålet om at fræse eller ikke fræse min have. Det ville jo være meget lettere at køre en maskine igennem jorden og slippe for at grave det hele selv. Jeg nævnte lidt rundt omkring i haverne, at jeg havde tænkt mig at fræse jorden. Men forfærdede havenaboer sagde, at fræseren blot ville dele rødderne i tusinder af stykker, og derefter vil ukrudtet spire ti fold op igen. Niels og hans kone Anna fra nabohaven ville dog gerne fræse haven EFTER, at jeg har håndgravet den igennem – på den måde bliver den fin og plan, i stedet for at ligne en ujævn pløjemark, hvad den gør i øjeblikket. Med græs og engtotter blandet med krydderurter, storkenæb og kvikgræs i den ene ende – som bliver højere og højere dag for dag. For slet ikke at tale om alle de frø, der snart vil blive kastet rundt på min have. 

I thought about using an electrical cultivator my garden. It would be so much easier to run a machine through the soil and not have to dig it by hand . I mentioned this casually around the gardens, and several horrified gardenkeepers told me, that the roots would be broken into thousands of pieces, and then the weeds would germinate ten fold up again . Niels from the neighboring garden would , however, cultivate my garden AFTER  I had dug through it - that way it will be nice and level, instead of looking like a rough plowed field , which it does at the moment. With grass and meadow tufts mixed with herbs, geranium and couch grass at one end - which is getting higher and higher day by day. Not to mention all the seeds that will soon be thrown around in my garden.

Der var ingen vej uden om, jeg skulle ikke have tusinder af sovende ukrudtsrødder i min have - og jeg skulle ihvertfald ikke tage den nemme vej ud for øjnene af 96 havenaboer. 

”Du kan jo tage en le, og skære ukrudtet ned, så bliver det psykologisk lidt nemmere at komme videre”, sagde formanden Lars, da han gik forbi og så mig med stå med havegrebet dybt plantet i jorden og sved på panden.

”En LE??” sagde jeg. Jeg var ikke sikker på, om dette virkelig var et redskab, man stadig helt seriøst brugte i de danske haver. Men med udsyn til en psykologisk lettelse, gik jeg hen og pillede le´en ned fra dens plads i redskabsskuret.

Ok, men den var jo slet ikke skarp, og nu skulle den slibes. Da min mor er madskribent, var jeg meget glad for, at jeg har lært at slibe mine køkkenknive hjemmefra. Den teknik måtte jeg kunne overføre på den le.

”RYTSCH……. RYTSCH…..RYYYYSCH” lød det, da jeg stod med leen i den ene hånd og sliberen i den anden med lettere flagrende arme, fordi det var ikke helt det samme som en køkkenkniv, da skaftet er meget længere.

”Du skal holde den lidt længere oppe, og så skal du slibe én gang på den ene side, og én gang på den anden”, en havenabo slyngede nyttige instrukser ud, da han gik forbi.

Til sidst var léen skarp som min mors bedste kokkekniv, og jeg kunne stolt gå op til min have og skære igennem vildnisset, som var det smør. Det var en fornøjelse, og da jeg gik hjem den aften, havde jeg en meget bedre psykologisk fornemmelse, samt et meget tydeligere billede af min have – dens omrids stod nu meget skarpere. Så skarpt, at jeg begyndte at få et billede af to snoede havestier, som skulle mødes på midten og forbinde de to haveender med hinanden. Samt hvide granit-trædesten sat i grønne stenbedsplanter: timian og trædebregner…..

 There was no way around it, I was not going to have thousands of dormant weed roots in my garden - and I would certainly not take the easy way out in front of 96 gardenkeepers.

" You can always take a scythe and cut the weeds down. That might make it psychologically a little easier to move forward with the digging ," said Chairman Lars as he walked by and saw me standing with a garden fork deeply planted in the soil, sweat on my brow, and a slightly overwhelmed expression.

" A SCYTHE?' I exclaimed. I was not quite sure whether this was a garden tool still seriously used in the Danish gardens. However, with the hopes of a much needed psychological relief, I went and picked the scythe down from its place in the toolshed .

So far so good, but the blade was dull and needed sharpening . Thank God my mother is a food writer. I was very happy that I have learned to sharpen my own kitchen knives. I could transfer that technique to the scythe .

" RYTSCH ....... RYTSCH ..... RYYYYSCH " it said, as I stood with the scythe in one hand and the file in the other with slightly fluttering arms because it was not quite the same as a kitchen knife as the shaft is so much longer.

" You have to hold it a little further up to steady it, and then you file it once on one side , and once on the other ," a gardenkeeper gave helpful instructions out as he walked past .

In the end the scythe was as sharp as my mother's best kitchen knife, and I could proudly walk up to my garden and cut through the now very high weeds , as if they were butter . It was a pleasure , and when I went home that night , I had a much better psychological sense , and a much clearer picture of my garden - its outline was now much sharper . So sharp that I began to get a picture of two winding garden paths , which would meet in the middle and connect the two ends of my garden. As well as white granite treading stones set in green rockery plants : thyme and ferns .....