We had a couple of sunny Autumn days lately, and I determined to get out into the garden. The profusion of spent borage, exuberant pot marjoram and ancient alchemilla were bugging me. It needs tidying up, I decided. So out I went, secateurs in hand.
The garden greeted me with a sunny smile and a happy hum of activity. I was distracted by this:
and this …
The bumble bees were rattling around noisily inside the late foxgloves. OK, I thought, so the beds can’t be tidied up yet. I proceeded to the front border, determined to cut down the alchemilla before it seeded itself everywhere. I was stopped in my tracks by this:
A garden spider preserving something for her larder by wrapping it in silk. Her web was strung across the alchemilla. Naturally I couldn’t disturb her. Next to her was one of my favourite insects, the dapper shield bug:
Clearly leaving the front border alone for a while had enabled the insects to move in and organise the infrastructure that they require. It would be rude to interrupt. So – that left the borage. Surely I could tidy up the borage by now?
Bug*** off! said the bees. I want those last flowers. So I gave in. I am slowly redefining ‘gardening’ as being with the garden, rather than interfering with it. And it rewards me.