A GARDEN IS A LOATHSOME THING

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.