Mountains Out Of Molehills …….. Day 70 of 100

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I’m afraid  this is not a post about uplift bras or  ‘chicken-fillet’   breast enhancements …..sorry if that has disappointed you …. hehe !

No, this is a post about gardening.  Well ….sort of.

You see, I took delivery of my online grocery shopping at 9.00 am and, while unpacking it, I realised that I had forgotten to order any mushrooms.  Well…….that is a big deal for me as I have them, raw, in salads, every day.  Silly, forgetful me !

So off I went to rectify my mistake and purchase a punnet or two.

On my way to the nearest supermarket I drove past quite a few people, in various gardens, either cutting grass or weeding or otherwise pottering about. Even the local council had a team of guys, working away on the roundabout …… pruning roses and planting  bedding plants ………everyone spurred on by the gloriously sunny weather and the ever-decreasing chance of frost.

I am no exception ….I have written about my pots and plants often enough in the past.  And I enjoy visiting Garden Centres and choosing new shrubs and perennials.

But, something else struck me as I pulled into the Retail Park……

There  are three supermarkets on the site ….and a discount shop ….and every one had plants for sale !  Pallets and pallets of plants, in fact.  And pots and tubs and bedding compost …………all the stores were  practically mini-nurseries.

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Surely this must have an impact on proper Garden Centres …. ?

No wonder they all sell books,  tea-towels and sugar bowls.

And thinking about gardening and all the trials and tribulations involved in maintaining a perfect lawn and flowerbeds, reminded me of an old blog post.  So, here we go  again …… this is where the title of this post comes in ………

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MOUNTAINS OUT OF MOLEHILLS

When we left Scotland in 1991 we bought a house on the edge of Shiptonthorpe,  a tiny village halfway between York and Hull .

The house had 4 acres of land, consisting of garden, woodland and a large field where my daughter kept her two horses,  Charlie and Floss.

The garden was beautifully landscaped with sweeping lawns and a huge fishpond with little waterfall and the pond was surrounded by a rockery and some particularly lovely flower beds.

It was visited by families of ducks, who waddled up the garden with their babies   “cheeping ”   in a long line behind them.  Shy moorhens scuttled behind the reeds and hid whenever we passed and every morning,  bright and early,  a heron stood motionless at the waters edge, hoping for a glimpse of breakfast.

It was a tranquil haven of cool green grass and shady trees;  of the scent of flowers and the sound of birdsong. The field was lush and the horses happily grazed; their glossy coats gleaming in the sunlight.

The wood was home to warrens of rabbits and birds of all kinds including cuckoos,  owls and a woodpecker.

It was nature at its best,  everything in harmony ……… blissful !

Blissful until the arrival of interlopers ……….. in the form of moles !

At first it was charming to see the occasional molehill here and there.  Moles are the  ” little gentlemen in velvet jackets ” …… the Moley of   ‘Wind in the Willows’  living happily in his subterranean world.

But soon it became ridiculous.  The damage the moles were doing was unbelievable.  Great piles of soil and huge holes everywhere.

I twisted my ankle in one and my daughter became worried that one of the horses would break a leg if they stepped into one of the gaping holes that were appearing all over the field.

The lawns were being destroyed and plants dying from being continually dug up.

It became clear that something had to be done.

As animal lovers,  we were very reluctant to do anything at all but our gardener said that he would get a trap and show hubby how to set it. The mole numbers definitely needed reducing.

Well I think hubby was so reluctant to do this that he didn’t watch the demonstration very well and consequently the trap was not very successful and only two moles were actually caught. Even this made us quite sad as we didn’t  like killing things.

The gardener also tried smoke bombs,  but we didn’t like that either so that method was also abandoned.

The problem was still there though, so we resorted to asking everyone we knew, at dog shows and other places, for advice.

It seemed everyone had a different method for humanely scaring off moles !

Put holly in the tunnels ……….. put various foul-smelling mixtures in the tunnels ….. oh all sorts of weird and wonderful things that were all  ” guaranteed ”  to persuade the moles to dig elsewhere  !   But of course nothing worked.

The molehills multiplied and in desperation hubby tried the trap again.  This time it didn’t work at all  ( thankfully )  It seemed that the rabbits had teamed up with the moles and ran around and  “sprung”  the trap each time it was set !

We became the entertainment for friends and family,  who enquired daily about the  ‘mole situation’  and they almost cried, as they  laughed so hard when we told them of  the latest lack of progress.

It was our custom to host a barbeque in our garden after the annual Leeds Dog Show and many people attended.  They all thought the molehills were hilarious and some witty chaps sneaked out and put huge heaps of soil on the paved patio,  then shouted,

” Oh look,  they’ve even tunneled through the paving slabs !  Wow,  these moles are invincible !”

And many guests brought us stuffed toy moles and a  ‘mole’  tea-towel and other mole themed objects ! ……..Ha , bloody ha !

Two days after the barbeque we received a letter and newspaper cutting from one of our friends in Birmingham.  The newspaper article was about getting rid of moles by putting a tape player in the garden and playing rock music.  Apparently moles don’t like the vibrations !

We laughed at this idea, but we tried it and a couple of days later I wrote the following poem and sent it to our friend :

THE PROBLEM WITH MOLES

This is the tale of a fellow called Ian,

With a lovely garden and lawn flat and green.

He tended it daily and mowed it each week,

And when weeds appeared he gave them a tweak.

On rising one morning,  a warm rosy dawn

He spied a big pile of soil on his lawn.

No time for his coffee, a fag or a cough,

He just grabbed his spade and shoveled it off.

—–

But during the day, when the sun brightly burned,

To Ian’s dismay two molehills returned.

For the rest of the week, well he almost cried,

Cos each time he moved them,  they just multiplied.

So Ian decided a hard line to pursue,

And took some advice on just what to do.

He bought all the smoke-bombs,  displayed on the shelf;

” I’ll get the buggers ” he said to himself.

—–

He lit the blue touch paper, sat back and waited

And then, for a while, the molehills abated.

But just a month later saw hills end to end,

I think all the moles had come back;  with a friend.

So Ian decided to try out a trap,

The sort that squashes the sods with a snap !

So he got a long stick and poked in the ground

And followed the tunnels that went round and round.

—–

He planted the trap;  went in for his tea

And soon he  caught one and chortled with glee,

” I’ve caught one ! I’ve caught one , now I’m in clover,

Soon all my trouble with moles will be over ! ”

He caught one or two,  or, wait, was it three ?

And gained admiration from his family.

His wife said, ” Oh Ian , you’re a wonderful man,

Protecting us from moles, as only you can ! ”

—–

Even the puppies watched Ian with pride,

As he opened the bin and dropped moles inside.

But soon the grin was wiped from his face,

As molehills appeared all over the place.

The moles were too clever to all end up dead,

So around the traps they tunneled instead.

—–

And Ian began to get really glum

Cos each trap that sprung was an empty one.

And deep in their tunnels the moles all did scoff,

They’d just asked the rabbits to set the traps off.

Well the battle raged on for many a day,

Those bloody moles would not go away.

Ian tried all the tricks with holly and such,

But they didn’t work …. well not very much !

—–

Then a letter arrived in the post one bright morn,

At first the idea,  Iany did scorn.

But persuaded by Rosie to have one last try,

He went off to Tesco and proceeded to buy

A pile of batteries and a certain tape.

The checkout assistant really did gape.

Then rushing back home , he plugged it all in

And then sat back with a tonic and gin.

—–

After an hour of Des O’Connors tones

The moles were all packing and leaving their homes.

The tape and the batteries were surely no waste

Because thankfully even moles have taste.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I know you are all animal lovers so please allow for poetic license in the poem.

No moles were hurt in the writing of this poem.

And YES , it did work !!

This was first published on http://tearosesmusings.blogspot.com on 12th September 2011

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About rosiewrites2

Growing old, disgracefully and enjoying every minute.
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