It’s a question I’ve had for many a year. Who on earth makes a decision to say that a weed is actually a weed and why would one flower be scarred with the hurtful, lifelong tag of being labelled a weed when in fact it was just a weaker, more delicate specimen in the flower bed.
During a very busy Bank Holiday weekend, that’s what I found myself mulling over in my mind. Gardening isn’t by any stretch of the imagination, my most favourite pastime and so the jobs have been stacking up in the garden. Obviously when Bank Holiday Monday arrived I had a choice to make. Would I venture out onto the highways and byways of our nation in search of a sandy beach, a historic ruin, an over-filled pretty little town with insufficient parking or –maybe if I was extra brave – an overpriced theme park to occupy my day? Or would I spend my day in the garden and tackle some flower beds that were in drastic need of some weeding and as a result, hopefully inject some much needed life into the resident plants?
I would’ve loved to spend my day kangarooing along the ever extending line of traffic, throwing copious amounts of barley sugars down my throat as I searched for suitable entertainment, but in the end, a choice was made. Now, although I would’ve made the same decision myself anyway, I was, through a mix of mind games and mellow words put under some pressure and encouraged quite heavily to assist Wendy in putting the garden right for the day. I couldn’t wait to get started, I can tell you! So, that’s when the questions once again raised their heads regarding weeds. What should I really be pulling out of the garden? Many of these so called weeds, were still producing an abundance of flowers, but as they had been categorised as weeds, they had to go. Well, if nothing else, just considering it all, helped to pass the time and before we knew it, the job was almost done. All that was left to do was, with the help of my trusty quad and trailer, transport the waste up to my ever growing bonfire, at the top of the green mile, to await a more favourable day to get torched.
I really didn’t mind doing a bit more gardening, because if nothing else had been achieved, it would have taken me a day closer to our holiday. “Holiday’, I hear you cry. I know, it was a shock to me too, although it is going to be more of a break than than a proper holiday, if I’m honest. As we have only been away for a single night in almost four years, I thought it was time to give Mrs. McKenna a treat and take her away to the Lakes for a couple of nights. Now I appreciate that it is taking us out of Yorkshire, but it won’t be for long and I needed to take her far enough away that I could ensure her teashop could be closed and she wouldn’t keep popping back each morning to open up! So, our daughter Evie and her husband Joe have volunteered to move in whilst we are away, to take care of the animals and to keep Naomi company. Anyway, I can’t be getting too excited, too early as there’s still lots to do around here and besides, if I stand still for long enough ‘Mrs. Mc’ will get me onto garden weeding duties again, so I’d best be off.