Some years ago my mother descended up on my garden – probably directed me to weed and planted a daisy plant (‘because there was a space’). I’d taken up some of the paving slabs in my front yard hoping to expose more soil and plant more things and also have somewhere for the rainwater to sink into. The plant must have been small because I don’t even remember her planting it. Then one summer I saw this vast protuberance of dark leaves straight stems, and these frankly vulgar white blooms on top which STANK! But I lived with them. For at least 5 years. Then I noticed that as I walked to hang up washing when wet they would droop across the path and snare me slapping me wetly on the legs. I found my secateurs and snipped at some offenders. A week or two back I had another go and sipped away at a third of it. Tonight since it was such a lovely evening I cut off ever last bloody stem of that ugly ugly plant. I’m off on wed so not sure that I’ll have time to tackle it’s probably vast root system before then.
‘because there was a space’ why why why… I talked for a friend this evening wrestling with sighing up for a one year long course. We discussed that it was ok to have time without something fixed filling it. In the same way its fine to have some bare earth.. that space could have been filled by fox gloves… as it its I have a fine hedge of chickweed which is infinitely prettier and self seeded… why not leave the space? As I snipped I thought of all the times I rush to fill the space, facebook, twitter, media, socialising. Anything to fill the space.
Just be, just be.