We are enjoying a brief October warm spell in the UK and, despite not being a terribly keen gardener, I was out in the low autumn sun cutting back weeds, pulling up stinging nettles and generally tidying up before the winter arrives. It seems that to have a successful, neat garden it is necessary to be out titivating every five minutes, least a weed appear in an otherwise pristine border, or a squirrel attempts to dig a hole in the lawn. I must admit that I am OK with a bit of disorder in the garden, and am quite keen on squirrels, especially if it means I can spend more time writing, going out for a meal or generally enjoying activities that don’t make my back hurt. Gardening seems to be the ideal way to ache. Why does everything have to be at ground level?
When I write, I sit on a nice comfortable chair with my keyboard and monitor ideally positioned for ease of use. Perhaps I need a garden at desk height, preferable in the warm, and sheltered from the rain. Each spring I do have a little burst of enthusiasm for gardening, but fortunately it soon goes away, even without counselling. Maybe when I retire a keenness might suddenly emerge for the garden, but since my calculations indicate that I will only be able to afford to retire about 2 years after I die, that is less than likely.