Garden shorts
In the last few months, I have idly watched the slow spread of a green moss in a very shady place on the north side of our house and, then, the seeding into that moss of the small, native, hairy bitter cress. Usually, I am ruthless in removing this cress when I find it in the borders, because it is such a profligate seeder, but I let it stay, fascinated by its capacity to colonise what was rather a hostile environment. It intrigues me what chooses to seed itself where; plants often contradict my preconceived ideas as to what is possible.
Then, one day, I had had enough, and deliberately destroyed this fragile embryo eco-system. It was no big deal, of course, for we gardeners do it all the time. It’s called weeding. The fact was that this moss and hairy bitter cress had been growing on the boot sill of my navy blue, L reg., 1.8 litre Volvo 440 Li and, if I was going to have any chance at all of selling the old car, I had to give it a good clean and wash. But I felt a pang, nevertheless.
Ursula Buchan
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