My gardening techniques are, in my wider family, legendary. My late brother, himself a green-fingered fanatic, described them best as ‘Benign Neglect’. I accept that, every few weeks, I have to cut the weeds back to a semi-desert basis, and the moss thrives during the summer and autumn. I liberally spray all sorts of deadly poisons to keep the weeds down on my drive- and path-ways. When various bushes and other growing things intrude into my sight-line, obscuring my view of the roadside and of who approaches my front door, I bring out the hedge-trimmer and slash-and-hack until a respectable pile is dumped into the garden waste bin. I have absolutely no interest in planting, or trimming, or indeed watering.
So imagine my amazement when, over the past week, a glorious bunch of bluebells began to blossom next my very front door. I certainly did not plant them, but once again, Nature brings a gentle sense of order to the waste ground which is my front garden. Ain’t life wonderful, especially when random chance brings such transient beauty into my world?