Category: garden

Feathers (Fiction)

Flash Fiction (My First Attempt)

Over the weekend and today, I wrote two pieces of coursework to send to my tutor. One was a 2,500-word true-life short story, which I may share another time. The other, today, was my first-ever attempt at flash fiction (under 300 words). As I said to my blogging friend, Jeff Cann, yesterday, I never write fiction, having always said I can’t do it, so this is unusual for me. I thought I’d share it with you here.

FEATHERS

Andrea was washing the dishes when she was startled by a scream from outside. She hobbled over to the kitchen window and looked to see where the sound had come from. A minute later, the phone rang. As she answered it, the irate voice of her neighbour shouted, “your bloody cat has killed a pigeon in my garden,” to which Andrea replied, “I’m really sorry, but how do you know it was my Lucy? She’s never caught a bird before; several cats prowl this area.”

The voice yelled, “Your cat was sitting nearby and looking very proud.”

She smiled to herself and tried to visualise a proud cat. “You’ll have to come and clear this mess up,” Mick demanded.

Andrea explained she’d injured her ankle, so she couldn’t help. She felt quite sorry for Mick now, having to deal with the feathered casualty and knowing how much he hated cats. She felt sorrier for the pigeon, as she loved all wildlife. She apologised, still not convinced it was Lucy’s fault but wanting to keep the peace. They’d always been good neighbours up until now; it would be a shame to fall out over this one incident.

She offered Mick some plastic bags and old gardening gloves to clear up the dead body. Five minutes later, she could hear him cussing as he dealt with the corpse in his back garden. Andrea finished washing up, despite the water being only lukewarm now. She glanced up and was horrified to see Mick, having hopped quietly over the low fence, furtively creeping along the wall to her dustbin. He lifted the lid and unceremoniously plopped the dead bird in.

Now, he was the one who was smiling.



Busy, Busy, Busy

I’m suddenly so busy; I don’t know where to start
I decided last week to try my hand at art
Monday morning came, and I trotted off to town
Got soaked on the way as the rain thundered down

The art group was crowded, taking turns with the paint
and I really do not have the patience of a saint
I left rather early as I didn’t want to wait
with half a piece of work that I didn’t think was great

Tuesday morning is my own; perhaps time to write
I’m short on ideas, so will my piece be trite?
My imagination frazzled; do I really want to try,
or shall I stop here and now and simply say goodbye?

Tuesday afternoon, I’m at the gardening group
It gets pretty chilly; I was glad I’d taken soup
But nothing’s really growing, and the flowers are dead
I’ll wait till the spring and do something else instead

Wednesday night, I’m drumming; I have a brilliant time
I’m really in my element and feeling quite sublime
Thursday afternoons, I pick litter in the park
We walk around in twos like the creatures in the Ark

Friday comes around, and I have time for myself
I just cannot settle like the Elf on the Shelf*
I ought to read or write, but my concentration’s poor
not helped by the postman who is knocking at my door

Saturday at last, and I am seeing my best friend
I hope that our relationship will never, ever end
We’ll have lunch together; dip our biscuits in our tea
We think so similarly, and we rarely disagree

And finally, Sunday comes, and I’m free to lie in bed
I sleep too heavily and wake up with a sore head
The shopping comes from Tesco; now there’s food to eat
I snuck a bar of chocolate in; my happiness complete!


*Elf on the Shelf (for those who don’t know it) is a classic game that children get involved in at Christmas. There is a toy elf, and the parents/carers place it in different places around the home every night, so delighted children think the elf is moving around itself. My youngest grandchildren are sure that the elf is magic because of this!

Image by Brian Merrill from Pixabay


The Wildlife In My Garden

Bumble bee on a buddleia in my garden

I’ve had three requests from my lovely readers to write a blog about my rather wild garden, so here it is. It will be primarily photos rather than writing, so I hope you won’t be disappointed. I’ve lived at my house in Essex in the UK for over thirty years. The railway runs across the bottom of the garden, and a river runs at the bottom of my road. I cannot get out into my garden now that I use a wheelchair because there is no access apart from on foot. Most of these photos were taken before the accident that left me with a disability and before I badly fractured my pelvis a few years ago. The garden is mainly grass in the middle but has dozens of wildflowers growing through it (some people may call them weeds, but I disagree). Nothing in it is cultivated. Everything has seeded itself naturally. These are just some of the wildflowers growing in the grass – daisies and buttercups, wild violets, forget-me-nots, orange hawkweed amongst some dandelions and a photo of a single buttercup.

At the back of my garden is a steep bank full of mature trees of various types. I have elm, ash, sycamore and others including hawthorn which has white flowers. There are also bluebells there in the very early spring.

At the side of the garden are some shrubs that have come under the fence from my neighbour’s garden, which I was delighted to see. These were (on the left) euphorbia, some unknown yellow flowers and green alkanet. There is also (on the right) a yellow forsythia bush, an elderberry shrub with black berries with which you can make delicious elderberry juice or wine and another unknown shrub with yellow/orange berries.

Finally, I have taken some shots of plants and trees triumphing over adversity. These are proof that nature will always find a way, whether it’s a wildflower growing through concrete or a tree that was once chopped down to near the base, which is now producing branches and leaves.

We must protect all these wildflowers and trees as they are essential to insects, butterflies and bees. Trees are being chopped down, and small creatures are now in decline in our world, and without them, humans (and many larger animals) will eventually be unable to survive. Nature without the human race would do very well, but humans cannot survive without nature.

I do hope you’ve enjoyed your time in my garden. I realise I am fortunate to live in such a beautiful place in the UK, where there is an abundance of trees and plants to be seen. The pictures I’ve included in this post are just a few of them. I’d be pleased to hear your comments and perhaps, suggestions as to what else I could add to my garden. Thank you so much for reading and viewing my photos.

We could die, and nature would almost certainly be fine. But humans cannot survive without nature. Our culture, everything that makes us human, cannot survive without nature.

Harrison Ford