It wasn't as straightforward as it sounds - as nothing ever is. After the selection of a nice spot by the fence with morning sun and protection from afternoon heat, the first job was preparation of the site. This did create some initial resistance from the Badger, and momentary grumpiness. Badger doesn't necessarily feel the need to create that which is reasonable to the eye; he just wants the job done. However, once I had finally stopped pruning-in-readiness, and he could see the secauteurs were put away, he cheered up enormously and pot shifting commenced.
It was certainly a case of us-against-the-elements. In gale force westerly winds, we loaded up the trailer on the trusty ride-on with dozens of pots for what seemed like dozens of occasions and I took the reins for my inaugural circuit on the mower. Thankfully, the initial nervousness of the controls disappeared by the fifth or sixth trip from the old to the new pot-spot, and I was riding up hill, down dale like I'd been born to it.
The old pot-spot is now ready for the digger to reshape the earth into a garden. But there is a small down-side to our success story When the cuttings were at the back door (an entry/exit not often used), I didn't see their neediness. Now when I gaze out the window, I can see all the weeny attention-starved plants, many in undersized pots, waiting patiently if not rather desperately for a garden bed. They just want to put down their roots and flourish. There was a time when I felt the same way.