the garden

today is dark, windy and quite frankly... rather unpleasant, which is a pity as i really need to get out there in my brown working boots and mud caked gardening gloves. scottish grass is green and grows without encouragement. miss a mowing day... due to my natural, south african aversion to the wet and ... damn the stuff is a foot high and completely out of control. i lean on the wall which overlooks the greeness and i lack the will to do battle with the growth. perhaps some geese or a miniature goat?

forget-me not blue spreads like a camouflage of sky across the garden. they grow everywhere, successful, born on the wind, in search of a new fragment of earth in which to bind their roots. there are daisies too, as yet lacking in blossom but growing tall and strong between the flagstones which pave the back yard.

this is a country garden, rasberry canes growing untamed, black currant, red currant and gooseberry bushes nudging each other as they vie for space to spread their branches. i have watched them bud and flower and now i watch the fruit grow and swell, waiting for the soft heat of summer to reach maturity and ripen.

the huge cherry tree which shades the front garden has flowered and the pink blossoms, blown on a gusting breeze, now whirl and swirl like confetti across open spaces. the tree produces small, bitter fruit, inedible even to the birds of the wild. but ... oh how the bees enjoyed her blossoms, the air buzzed with the sound of their labour, day after day, i would stand in her shade and listen to their feasting song, that tree was alive with the sound of the hive.

the apple trees and the damson are still in flower and butterflies float between the individual blossoms in the warm morning sun.
the happy sound of a busy bumble bee zooms past my ear, in this garden at least, they still thrive.
perhaps it is the lack of human interferance, the wildness of it that calls us to this garden.