A few days or a little longer ago, I wrote about how gardening was such a chore for me and how I wish I loved it like other people do. Many get such pleasure from pottering around, seeing things grow, enjoying being outside etc and I genuinely do envy them for feeling like that. I wrote that it’s just a thankless task for me, I’m sure John Wyndham based his novel ‘The Triffids’ on the type of rampant, aggressive vegetation we have. As I mentioned before, the garden is too big for us to cope with, lush wild grasses, fleshy leaved things, bristly stemmed other things, aggressive prickly stalky things – and that’s not counting the brambles which send secret suckers out on missions to erupt unexpectedly.
This afternoon I decided I had to do something – husband was mowing the lawn again (maybe we need a flock of sheep or goats) and I realised it was absolutely no use just moaning, so I grabbed clippers and secateurs and began to clear the weeds growing vigorously on either side of the path and between the flagstones. I did make some progress but I realise that these weeds have really taken a hold – if they were plants we wanted to have in the garden we would be thrilled at their vigour and lushness. As it is, after hacking away, just cutting them back so I could dig them up another time (perhaps even tomorrow if my resolve doesn’t weaken) I looked at what I’d done and it was less than impressive.
I went and made us a pot of tea and reflected that by the time I’d got to the end of the weedy patch, what I had done would be flourishing again. One positive thing I noticed, we should have a good crop of currants, the noble ribes have fought back and the bushes are laden. Black current jam for our cream teas this summer!
Lois Elsden 