If you have ever been led up the garden path then you will know what a perplexing experience it can be , and one which has,more often than not , by its very nature, Destination Unclear. So, what a pleasure it is to be led up a garden path that simply leads me to Destination Known, my own front door.
To walk up the garden path is to be coming home ; to walk back down it is to be leaving it. The garden path sees the comings and goings of our daily lives , the Eldest,tidy, ready and up against the clock ,rushing down it ,leaving in the morning , and returning,hot- headed- messy, helter skeltering back up it , at the end of the day. The Morning Husband , straddle-walking the bike down it ,back packed butties rucksack ,through the gate then on, off and away for the day. And returning , worked out,eight hours later, to shouty children, home and mess, and if he’s lucky, tea. And inbetween, several ups & downs of Baby, Pushchair, and Me. It is a road well travelled, a familiar path.
Now we have visitors lining our way,standing sentry as we up-and-down / down-and-up , three , four , five times a day, even. Here they are
– Intruders, self seeded ,self promoting,guerilla rogue-plants. Eff You plants . ” We won’t go where YOU want us to go, where YOU plant us, We’ll go wherever WE want to go” plants. Plants With Attitude.
Free Spirit Wild Child Plants. Maverick Plants. Plants With A Quirk , Plants With A Smile. Greeting, Tweeting, Hand Shaking Line Plants. Reception Committee Plants, All.
Either way, we have got to know them. Eldest likes to touch the lavender as she leaves home , and again, as she returns. Sometimes she likes to take a piece of it with her ,tucked away safely in her pocket. The Baby likes the Welsh Poppies, and smiles and gurgle giggles when we brush past them pushing ever onward , flooping little sausage hands reaching out ,impossibly, to catch one of the bobbing, burnt orange poppy heads. I like all of them – the lavender , which has jumped ship ,absconded,gone AWOL from the Official Lavender Hedge over on the other side of the path – jumped on the other bus,got into bed with the other renegades ,done the plant equivalent of running off with the circus. The Foxglove , but poisonous, don’t touch ; the Gladioli (Dame Edna ! Dame Edna !) and of course, the precious Wild Welsh Poppies (orange ? yellow ? You Pays Your Money You Takes Your Chances.) Wales is good at Wild flowers , wantonly showering its roadsides and gardens with wild daffs and poppies ,willy nilly.And on the right clear blue skied spring day , I do indeed say to myself, What a Wonderful World. No word of a lie.
So, that’s the garden path for you. It is what it is, essentially an up/down venture. Nothing complicated. The plants have landed there. Simple ,really, and easy-as-you-like. There is no moral to this post ; no deep realisation,no easy click it into place conclusion. It’s about a garden path , and about the plants that have made their home there , and about us ,our little family,going up-down-down-up, living our daily lives.