When Mr B takes against something, he is not inclined to let up. Once his mind is made up, there’s no changing it.
week he has turned his wrath upon something so innocuous that it is hard to understand why he is so het up about it. In short, he is waging war on the forget-me-nots in our back garden. You know forget-me-nots? They are those tiny blue flowers which have a
habit of spreading across any spare piece of garden. Ubiquitous is a good word for them though Mr B can think of many others.
Myself, I rather like forget-me-nots.
I like the name, for a start, romantic that I am. I like the fact that they provide a splash of colour just when I need it, before the roses take over in all their pink, gold and ruby beauty. Mr B points out that I also “rather like” buttercups,
daisies and even dandelions - particularly when seen in great number on grass verges. I accept that there is a lot of truth in what he says.
Mr B has turned to
Ken the Gardener to do his bidding and eliminate the forget-me-nots. He has clearly given up on persuading me to do the Dirty Deed. Anyway I am far too busy planting up my 2018 Sunflower Wall, allocating one Sunflower to each of my Tremendous Ten grandchildren.
This is in addition, of course, to the annual Sunflower Competition between Mr B and me as to who can grow the tallest Sunflower. We have two each and (whisper it here) one of mine is definitely in the lead so far. I have planted all the cuttings in giant
flower pots in a bid to stave off the Slug Invasion which decimated last year’s Wall of Sunflowers.
Ken consults me on Mr B’s instructions - possibly
because I am the one who pays him each week. He who pays the piper, as they say...I tell him that, sadly, it is more than my life is worth to let the forget-me-nots continue to rampage their wilful way through our flower borders. Much as I love them.
I am exaggerating when I say it’s more than my life is worth - but as you probably recognise by now, I am not one for confrontation, especially over a small blue flower which will undoubtedly be back next spring in all its plentifulness. Best to keep
Mr B happy, that’s my Purpose in Life these days.
While Ken is pulling up forget-me-nots, I draw up a mental list of everything that needs doing in the garden.
I am not one for digging and delving, as I have told you before - but there are pots to be potted up, hanging baskets to be hung, vegetables to be planted in the vegetable trough. Everything in the garden must have its place - unlike, I must admit, the honeysuckle
which is currently rioting through the tamarisk tree. I really think I should exert more control over my garden but I rather like it as it is, in all its waywardness.
Mr B prefers the garden to be neat and tidy. He is, therefore, very happy with Ken the Gardener’s work this morning while I have resigned myself to the inevitable. The forget-me-nots are no more - except in my heart.
I will forget-them-not.