It's Sunday and I should be gardening. I should be tidying, chopping, weeding, pulling things up and throwing things away. But I'm not. Why? Because I rather love the wild.
Yes, the garden is becoming a bit of a jungle but I like that - I like the profusion, the abandonment, the sheer
greenness of it all.
"A green thought in a green shade" indeed...have you read
The Garden by Andrew Marvell? Do, do.
Then it puts me in mind of Hildegard of Bingen and her veriditas, her greening...that juiciness of spirit.
There is a craving in my soul for the green, for the wild wild green...not for neat rows of flowers forced into obedience but wild, wild, abundant, reckless, feckless green. Nature left to its own devices. The beauty of frond and flower, of curl and crevice-cling. So, I leave it be. I just sit for a moment, a blessed moment, while the house sleeps, watching the branches lazily sway, moved by invisibility - the wind's negative image.
It will take a special person to love this house, this garden... Will they change it? Of course they will. Everyone seeks to impose their will, their vision, their desire on their abode.
Does it matter? Of course not. Everything changes.
Or visit the estate agent's website and see it
here. Come view - I won't be here...I'll be a spirit hiding in the green.
