The recently mentioned cotoneaster has gone! My new gardener (Pete) and his young mate laboured over it for quite a while, drilling, cutting, sweating and swearing. I could understand the swearing as I watched the operation.
What I had called a gentle shrub had turned into a monster. The hitherto unseen ‘stalks’ were a circumference of twelve inches (yes, we measured it) which had to be drilled to get the mini tree sized shrub out of the ground. The remaining stumps had to be left where they were.
They emerged triumphant after an hour drilling the twisted and gnarled overgrown trunk. I call it a trunk for want of another name. Pete then had to saw it all into pieces in order to transport them to the garden rubbish bin from where they would be collected by council workers.
Eventually the entire strip opened up to a previously intended flower bed, stones, bricks and all. The cotoneaster had been in situ since before we moved into the bungalow because it was well established then. Add on thirty years and you get the drift of the its age. Going by the height and spread when we moved in I would put it at around forty years.
I should have got rid of it sooner but, never mind, the job is done. The soil in the ‘flower bed’ is healthy enough to plant some flowers which I will definitely try to produce. I am not going to buy much, just take specimens from the rest of the garden.
So now I can see the whole of the garden from the window and am thrilled.