I write about gardens for a living. My husband is a professional gardener. You’d be forgiven for thinking we have a neat, striped, barefoot-friendly lawn; unfortunately, it’s actually something of a busman’s holiday out there, which is why we’ve finally decided enough is enough.

Yes, I confess that our lawn has always been… aspirational at best. A patch of ground that, every year, we try to coax into something resembling a proper garden feature using the very best lawn care tips, only for it to quietly revert to what it clearly wants to be: the same Swamp of Sadness that swallowed poor Artax in The Neverending Story.

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