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This is a blog about a garden- my garden I have to admit- which is presented, I hope, in a way that its many hidden inhabitants see it, warts and all. I confess at this early stage that I have long had abhorrence for neat and regimented plots in which no self respecting creature or right minded human can ever reside in peace. The camera has been pointed at random, often to penetrate gloomy depths to reveal some of nature’s natural delights, but more often and more interestingly, its fascinating dross. This slightly irreverent approach to a well loved institution is accompanied by a few examples of verse describing the feathery and the furry that lurk within its borders.
Let us start at the beginning and set the mood with:
A GARDEN IS A LOATHSOME THING
(The Song of the Cynical Gardener)
A garden is a loathsome thing,
Full of weeds and things that sting,
Where miniature monsters creep around,
And evil smelling ponds abound.
Tiresome blackbirds tittle tattle,
While in straggling bushes warblers rattle.
The sun shines bright and sears the skin
Sly dawn breaks with hellish din.
For peace of mind I’d cover my plot
With block and tile-the whole dammed lot!
Or, on reflection, maybe not.
Overwhelmed by things that ring a ding a ling,
The garden next door is not a many splendoured thing,
For lurking there are creatures, large and small,
That, stunned by chimes fixed upon the garden wall
Gaze at spinning toys on which birds innocently ride,
While below, bold floral groups form fours with military pride.
In shaded corners stony elves stand still, and stare
With eyes dead that do not see the nightlight’s baleful glare.
Do not despair, for beyond the great divide
Lies a land where elements of good taste reside,
There, nature’s fuse desperate to stay alive,
Destroys the weak and encourages the strong to survive,
It is there that rampant rabbits dismantle seedbeds and lawn,
And where nettles, and ants upon the wing
Are acidly charged, and readily poised to sting.
It is all there in my garden,
That is a many splendoured thing.
Chattering, checkering, hideous din,
One fretful magpie, acrobatic on wing,
Hard out of hell, arch devil at dawn
Relentlessly made claim to my innocent lawn.
From that moment on there was no peace or rest,
No creature safe on ground or nest,
‘til splat, entrails arranged on the welcoming mat,
Was cock magpie killed by al Qaida,
The insensitive, in-residence, terrorist cat?
All the birds of the air
Danced and jigged when they heard
Of the timely death of the meddling bird,
The welcoming death of the tiresome bird.
Then high in the elm was clearly heard.
The imperious song of a wise old bird,
”That mire on the mat you plainly see
Could well have been you or even me!”
And this promptly closed their bird-brained spree.
Last night I ran into a Moth,
I gave it such a smack.
It traced, poor thing, a somersault
To crash land on its back,
Then I saw to my surprise,
Close clinging to its wing,
A parasitic wasp, no less,
Poised in readiness to sting.
I stooped down low to gently part
The host from parasite,
And with a twig I swished that wasp
To dent its appetite.
The creatures parted company,
The moth it calmly rose,
The wasp itself was not impressed
And stung me on the nose.
The snail a rubbery proposition,
Elastically constructed,
Is of elemental composition.
Slimily criss-cross trail of deposition,
Disintegrating viscera destructed
The snail a rubbery proposition.
Progessing slowly with minimal friction
So calm the snail, unobstructed,
Is of elemental composition.
Singularly footed apparition,
Steady movement with care conducted
The snail a rubbery proposition.
Man and snail, as needs must, are in opposition,
And the snail to crushing cruelty subjected,
Is of elemental composition.
Matisse’s Escargot, a minimal deposition,
Lost creative energy reconstructed,
The snail a rubbery proposition
Is of elemental composition.
Never still seldom at rest,
Eye aglitter cold as ice,
Melodious robin, welcoming guest.
Boisterous bird bright red of breast
Miming songs, gentle and precise,
Never still seldom at rest.
Men with you toil, but don’t molest
You, tenant of paradise
Melodious robin, welcoming guest.
Fluted notes, fluent, trilled with zest,
Perfected musical device,
Never still seldom at rest.
Beneath that throbbing chest
A heart of steel, powerful vice,
Melodious robin, welcoming guest.
Was it on the cross Jesus blest
You with his blood of sacrifice?
Never still seldom at rest
Melodious robin, welcoming guest.
You are weeds in pretence,
Wolves in sheep’s clothing,
Gazing proudly over the vale,
Yet to fail for the frailty
Within your sad error.
Blackbird flew out of the sun,
Small boy corked his plastic gun,
Blackbird taking aim from high
Blithely shat in small boy’s eye.
At early dawn the chorus sang
To praise him for a job well done
“Hello Brown” said Jones,“How well your garden grows,
That rhubarb all of three feet tall
Should be a winner in all our shows
And those cucumbers in delightful green,
Though somewhat tattered about their bends,
Have a pleasing appearance with a gossamer sheen
Which, delicately, disguises their mildewed ends.”
“I must say “said Brown to Jones “it was not so long ago,
When as head gardener to her majesty the queen
And the ladies in waiting waited no more,
My rhubarb covered the palace green
And in line with my reputation
I won every silvered cup
Across the nation;
Imagine my
Elation”.
00
“Now then Brown” said Jones,
“ I am heartily sick of your frolics,
So to you dear sir a very good day
And please go elsewhere to talk bolics”
(Sully Beach is a rich source of Fossils from the Jurassic Age.)
“Look! There! Between the wetted rocks,”
“What are they?”
“Footprints! Large Dinosaur footprints.
See how they ran.
Something must have scared them.
Look. Look to the side! Small steps.
Youngsters veered to the left,
Others to the right, Terrified.
Big ones, must have weighed a ton,
Panicked! Ran straight ahead.”
“Plant eaters waylaid by Tyrannosaurus?”
The chill of fear pervades the stony shore,
The silence shredded by savage screams
From loutish monsters dismantled
And devoured by primeval predators,
Blood spattered boulders are cast aside,
And the beach, its hot blood seeping
Into the anguish of turbulent seas,
Coagulates bronzed salt waters.
The beach, shielded from cooling breezes,
Rests before a silver merge of sea and sky,
Where only the lap of lazy waters disturbs
The random call of the raucous gull.
The bay, now at evening rest,
Bays to the delectable Diana.
But she, who has seen all things, sees nothing
As she strides through cotton wool skies,
And stares, sightless, into star peppered heavens.
Oscar the Aristocat,
Oscar the black and white cat,
Aloof but unpretentious
By nature unadventurous,
That’s Oscar the black and white cat.
Oscar the circumspect cat,
Oscar the black and white cat,
Never prone to take violence,
Ever addicted to silence
Is Oscar the black and white cat.
Oscar the mischievous cat,
Oscar what on earth is he at
At his age should he be able
To scale the heights of a table?
But is, in spite of all that,
Oscar the excusable cat.
Oscar the unassailable aristocat.
