The picture of the one and only bloom my Romneya produced this year is unrelated to this post, except that it is pretty and a refuge from some of the less attractive inhabitants of my tiny, desperately overcrowded garden.
Lured out (rather too easily) from a housework day, by the warm sunshine, I have spent quite a bit of time and energy this morning trying to reduce the number of weeds in my jungle.
I know how much I've done, but I rather doubt anyone else would notice and I was just stepping back onto paving from the tangled flower bed when I felt/heard that most ominous of sounds, a crack followed by a squish,
Ugh! I have just stepped on a snail! Horror, disgust, pity, guilt, what a mixture of emotions.
For some inexplicable reason snails and their second cousins, slugs, turn my stomach to such a degree that I will avoid an area where I know they are to be found for days, weeks even.
A gardener friend picks them up and puts them in a heap then stamps on them with his gardening boots.
Nothing on earth would persuade me to follow his example. First of all, they have a right to live (i think), even though they are disgusting. Secondly killing anything fills me with guilt, and thirdly, I have no big gardening boots and even if I did have, would never be able to stamp on them.
Actually I fear there may be far worse things lurking in the terribly overgrown wilderness that was once a well-kept garden, such as mice or even rats.
Although it is almost certain we will have very few more such lovely warm days this year I just can't face going out there again today.
Does this put me in line for wimp of the year, or am I one of many?