WILDERNESS

WILDERNESS

by Rosemary Clarke

     Loretta stared out at the overgrown garden; neither lawnmower nor shears had made the slightest difference.  In front of one window was what used to be the carefully tended flowerbed but somehow bushes had invaded with thorns and spikes, and however much she cut them down new plants would spring up.
     She had found one tiger lily peeking it's orange and black head from among the greenery but of the roses, lupins and anemones there was no sign.  The crocuses hadn't appeared on the lawn either: what was happening to the place?  A large garden may be an envy to some but it was hard with only one person to upkeep it.
     At least the grass was short and walkable, but she had noticed those little white plants pushing their way into the lawn.  Was it worth it; should she, as many had done around her, concrete the whole lot and have done with it?
     Loretta thought back to when there had been a family; brothers, sisters, children, husbands and wives all snipping, sorting, planting, mowing and pruning...now even her niece could not come in case that disease harmed her or Loretta herself.

     As a child she had loved the wildlife; foxes in their red coats, bushy tails trailing behind like bride's veils, badgers Humph humphing as they nuzzled the ground and the birdsong that had awoken her every morning as the smell of toast heralded another day of school no, all gone and the garden was ruined and friendless.
     Just then a slight movement caught her eye, Loretta stared; a small brown sparrow was hopping among the branches of the bushes in the overgrown flowerbed, another sparrow swooped inside joining the first, were they building a nest?  She watched intently as comma butterflies on small brown wings flitted around the bushes, even the garish brown, red and black of a tortoiseshell with some cabbage whites in hot pursuit danced in the sunlight twirling up and down.  Transfixed she opened the window a crack to hear myriad birds chorusing amid the cooing of pigeons.  A stray black cat had flopped itself onto the grass nearby contentedly washing in the sun.  Loretta shook her head in wonderment; maybe the garden didn't need so much tending after all.

Copyright Rosemary Clarke