This year I decided to transform the bland block of concrete in front of my house into a lush verdant garden of wondrous delight.
I started with my biggest pots filling them with compost and sowing seeds. When that was done I felt brave enough to make a long fat planter to sit on my low flat wall. Little plants started sprouting and I have the beginnings of spinach and peas, poppies, morning glory and garlic, there is also a carrot top from the compost bin that is enjoying being there so much it has put up a plume of feathery leaves.
Some people see my planter and think that I have provided a fancy litter bin. I pick out paper chip wrappers and discarded drinks cans before I head off to the Brain Doctor's - today an ant trail showed me the remains of a burger bun buried in the soil, last week a passerby plonked plastic pots of stunted garden centre orni-mentals on my delicate babies.
I'm getting quite cross about this
R.I.P.
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One of the most moving epitaphs I ever read — actually it is an inscription
— is in Ixelles cemetery, Brussels, on the tomb of a girl who had been the
mist...
4 hours ago
My ire would be a few notches higher than quite cross...
ReplyDeleteI need to reserve my strength Dinah
DeleteA scarecrow perhaps?
ReplyDeleteI do find myself thinking about writing a passive aggressive sign
Delete