Sunday, 1 June 2014

You can't beat a little bucolic...

bonk I always say.
Sitting like Ma Larkin, cheek by jowl with
Pa, full to pussy's bow with good strong Kentish cider.
We contemplate our wild meadow garden.
Cynics might say our gardening slothfulness knows no bounds.
With the sun's rays peeping through the canopy of
the magnolia tree, smugly, 
we look to those who buy cheap sunshades from Robert Dyas,
Argos and the like.

No worries that the sub-soil from the big pond dig
sits on the lawn, looking for all the world like 
Kent's answer to Tut's final resting place.
We are happy.

Nature is doing what nature does best...
not to put too fine a point on it...
Every year, under the eves of our 300 year old
weatherboard cottage, sparrows nest.
They make much of building a des. res. with lichen-clad roof of
Kentish peg-tiles.  After the Grand Designs is complete, they
celebrate by sitting on the end of the cast-iron gutter
and not to put too fine a point on it...
until even Ma Larkin thinks...
'They're pushing it!'

There is just one bum note in this
'Love Story'
in all the years we have,
like pervy naturalists, watched their antics,
there have never been babies.
She is obviously a slatternly sparrow;
a wag of the worse possible kind.
He's a male, happy to provide a cosy pied-à-terre.
No worries she's faking it! 

The blue-tits are about to entice their family out of the
nest-box.  They along with the frogs have
produced offspring.

It only remains now for Hedge
to find a mate instead of sleeping alone
in the greenhouse, and we will feel that our wild gardening adventure
has proved a success.


  1. Aaaah - Darling Buds of May Kent - I can picture it!
    I may be in Yorkshire but my garden is also bursting, blossoming and bonking - while all my neighbours look on with disapproval as they "maintain" their own barren patches. No wonder the wildlife chooses mine to live in.

    1. 'Uniformity is a fine thing!' style of gardening is not my style nor yours Nilly.
      Pansies in a row... Phaw!


  2. Our garden is also bursting at the seems, the rain and sun has made everything sprout. Three new cats have arrived next door and watching their antics is providing hours of amusement! Who needs television!

    1. Oooh cats! My least favourite animal... the puss, mainly due to the massacre of fledglings! That and the harvesting of cat poo when weeding.
      One culprit the other day sat on the step totally unfazed by my hakka-hakka face at the bedroom window. I then thought 'Sod this!' and threw one of my suede Louboutins (fib), that gave it the message. Trouble now is... I have one pointed toe shoe and one chisel toe. Serve me right some might say.