More grim sides of gardening...

Nature or nightmare? Wild or just weed? Pet or pest?
More garden moans...

Why did I bother getting down on hands and knees into 2012's muddy sludge on all those miserable occasions? Why did I bother trying to carry out that silly vision of mine: trying to clear the ditch at the back of our garden and conjure up a sweep of colour in such a corner? Why did I bother battling with those brambles, bracing myself to the stinging nettles, thrusting fingers and thumbs into those thorny bushes time and time again? Why on earth did I fork out on all those packets of pansies - even if they were '3 for 2' at the supermarket? Why did I make any attempt at all to bring such an unnatural feature as colour into that soggy, brown stream-bed, against all the odds, only to have it instantly drowned out by the usual weeds, floodwater, and - yes - cat mess? And read mess in the plural - the multiple, please. That of next door's beloved, I'm talking about, and he's just deposited another to greet me on this bright, fresh autumn morning! 

Last year the creature drove me to scrawl a rhyme about it, which I'll be putting up on my Gardening page soon; this year I'm past poetic comment; next year I'll let the ditch just be a ditch, and save my energy for shovelling.

Cats indoors are a different kettle of fish, of course, as are weeds in fields, and garden dreams in heads.