A Gardener's Folly

I have a garden. It is not a large piece of land; the smallest garden I have owned. It is my favourite one so far. I have built it from scrubby, so-called lawn into a flower filled, bee buzzing, petalled-patch in which I occasionally relax, ideally under a warming sun. The gardening work is mainly keeping the annual and perennial weed population at the outside edge of the fence line. Finer flowers are not made of the same mettle as the wily, bent-on-survival weeds are.

Keeping a garden ‘nice’ is a relentless, back aching role. The job title might more accurately be one of ‘weed war-monger’! After a day’s weeding, whilst out walking the dog, nursing the inevitable sore back and stiff hamstrings, I wander along the edges of arable fields, through wooded gaps, and notice many of my weedy-foes in their natural environment. Every now and again, I look at these wilderness plants and find myself thinking a variation of something like, “Oh no, that weed will get into my garden. Its seeds will be carried by birds, take root, take over. Give me more hard work, kill off my garden! It’s not fair!”

I am in these moments overtaken by a form of anxious madness, a particular type of foolishness.

Thoughts such as these are understandable in their commonness - especially easy to jump to when I am sore and grumpy because of how tough the act of creating the life – sorry, garden – I want to have, is.

Consider where the logic my folly ultimately takes me. I ask myself; are you seriously annoyed at wild plants doing their thing in the world in a wholly natural manner just because you, as a gardener, attempt to craft something particular to your view of how the world should be? Do you really want to see these ‘inconveniences’ removed from the wild? Banished from the planet? Just so that you may have an easier, prettier, perhaps safer life? Would that really be ‘better’?

Obviously, my answer is ‘no’. I do not want these wildflowers annihilated.

I do not want to be mad. I do not want to make the world a lesser place because of something I am trying to achieve, because of the manner in which I choose to live.

Gardening is a good metaphor. Does this bring to mind other areas of our lives where we resist what is natural?

Interacting with nature is good for me, for every single person on the planet. My sense of wellbeing is improved with it. But Mother-Nature is not always bucolic afternoons spent under a nurturing sun. Sometimes she is harsh, often unsentimental, verging on the cruel.

Fighting to keep my life – sorry, my garden – beautiful is a fundamental part of the process. Weeds teach me the value of regular and frequent attention to the task. They are as much a part of the act of creation as anything else. Without them, I might find I have less purpose, lapse into laziness, find less meaning and fulfilment to the whole process.

Railing at the existence of ‘bad’ or ‘dangerous’ things, and even getting indignant about their survival elsewhere on the planet is just plain daft. A world without ‘annoyances’ would be a false one. And anyway, who should I call upon if I did want to enact my crazy moment of mass wild-weed annihilation? Who is responsible? Who should I point at? The farmers? The council? The neighbours? The birds who carry the seeds? And, what would I demand of them? What should I say to bring them dashing to my aid; “Excuse me, these weeds are dangerous for my garden. Their existence too frightening, too much hard work. You need to do the responsible thing and remove them so that there is no risk to me.” Does that sound in anyway reasonable? Would you not send me packing with a fair few fleas in my ear if I was demanding this of you?

It is my choice to live —sorry, garden—the way I do. It is my responsibility to work at ‘protecting’ these choices from outside invaders. If – when – they arrive, I do in fact already have many resources at my fingertips to manage the intrusion. I am able to behave in ways that mitigate the risks and harm they might create in my garden. An acceptance of personal responsibility for the matter encourages me to remain awake and aware to life – thereby giving greater purpose and meaning to my attention and action. The product of all of this? A garden of beauty. One I can justifiably be prouder of, knowing the scale of effort it has taken me to create.

As I say, gardening is a great metaphor.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3:  May I I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then you're in luck, click here to be taken to the Amazon page which will happily enable you to purchase a copy straight away!

P.P.S. Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley, of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?' Get it now, here.

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