It never ceases to amaze me how fickle emotions can be.
If you had told me a year ago that I would be sorry to see this little yellow flower go, I would have said you were off your trolley.
You may remember the “Rabbitt” era in my back garden, followed closely by “Alice” and her later companion, “Pepper“. This happy, fluffy time in my garden ended when Alice died abruptly and Pepper pined so much that he was in danger of following too and was rehomed with Middle Daughter’s rabbits.
At first I didn’t go into the rabbitless garden, with no rabbits to trim it for me the grass grew to an unruly length and the weeds thrived. Dandelions, delicacies of a past era which before were eaten with relish, grew tall and stared at me through the kitchen window.
Hubby bought a new set of garden furniture designed to entice me back into the jungle out-back and I did eventually remove the rabbit protection from around the few surviving plants and I mowed the lawn, wincing at the number of weeds which had stolen in.
Then winter set in and the garden was abandoned again.
Spring brought with it a new sense of.. well, spring I guess, I started pottering around in the little flowerbeds, I cut the grass again and pulled at the weeds growing around the patio. This one little weed didn’t give in easily and I found myself quite literally brushing it under the mat.
The mat was way past its best by now and really needed to be replaced but instead I watched the little weed struggle back up through a new hole and share a happy yellow flower
A wedding loomed and visitors would be arriving, Hubby, the sensible one, decided they had to go, the mat and the weed, and he dumped both unceremoniously into the wheelie bin.
More from before : Goings on in “my garden“.