Having lost my elder which I'd cultivated lovingly for three years (a separate story), another one has jumped to the fore. Unfortunately, it's on the boundary between us and a neighbour (obviously
 ) and I've promised to remove it after this year's crop. As they give us eggs, we can't complain (although we do give them apples and pears). But no - fair's fair, and they don't want the elder to spread to their garden, so this year it goes.
 ) and I've promised to remove it after this year's crop. As they give us eggs, we can't complain (although we do give them apples and pears). But no - fair's fair, and they don't want the elder to spread to their garden, so this year it goes.I'd actually thought of just ignoring it and then cutting it down later, but those berries have been pulling at me. So, yesterday and today, I've been harvesting. Which means, at some point, strigging. And, as I've said, I'm sick of it. Where are the Ish genii who could have spent this entire year inventing the Easy Strigger? Eh?
Alright, the thought of the elderberry wine is inviting. But, year after year, I curse the inevitable fact of strigging.
I must be mad.
Mike



 .............So its got a name
 .............So its got a name  .............We call it forking hell
 .............We call it forking hell  
  
 
 



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