WHEN IS A WEED NOT A WEED?

I was doing the washing up the other day, and was idly looking out of the window as I did so, which might, I suppose, now that I come to think about it, explain the amount of chipped and broken crockery that I’ve managed to produce over the years.

Anyway, the sunlight was making one of its rare appearances around the back of our house and it just happened to fall upon a cluster of weedage growing at the base of the wall which makes up the lower half of our “view”.

In case you were wondering (and, after all, why would you?), above the wall, the rest of the view is made up with our precarious little back garden, happily perched above the twelve foot plummet towards almost certain death upon the cobbles below, unless a car happens to choose that moment to be passing and then it might mean an even stickier end.

But these things haven’t happened yet, and maybe never will, so why worry?

Oh yes, because it’s me.

The wall also has attached to it a set of stone steps which lead up towards all of the gardens, so the “view” is, at least, occasionally not as dull as I first insinuated and I get to wave at the odd neighbour as they make their way up and down with their gardening tools or their washing, whilst, apart from the waving, I keep my own hands firmly inside the washing-up bowl where they belong.

Trust me, you see, to accentuate the negative and only grudgingly admit to the positives…

Anyway, where was I…? Oh yes, the sunlight had poked a finger into the weeds at the back of the house and drawn my attention to them. Not only that, but it had made me aware of the rather beautiful mass of tiny blue flowers which had bloomed there amidst the dandelions and the clumps of grass.

Now, I’ll admit that in terms of tending to our garden, things are getting rather overgrown and in need of attention at the moment due to levels of work and the constant lack of any dry days upon which to head outside to give things a bit of a prune and a tidy up, but when some of the so-called “weeds” are so very pretty it really feels like it would be a shame to head out there with the strimmer and blitz the lot of them back down to the stonework and turn them into mush.

Surely it’s much better to just leave them be, brightening up their little corner of the world for a while, until such time as their blooms start to fade…?

This, of course, does make me wonder how you define “weeds” anyway. Some will say that they’re just plants that are growing in the wrong place, although my experiences down the years with couch grass and bindweed would make me question that particular belief.

Anyway, I rather like the little blue flowers and they’re going to stay right where they are for the time being, and hopefully they will continue to cheer me up as I carry on with my washing-up duties, which seems to be one of those “little tasks” in life that never really ends…