The cottage

Left to her own device

mother nature had risen triumphant,

the riot of colour, mis-matched,

mis-aligned, doubtless a red-flagged

affront to the long gone hand of

the previous too careful owner.

To me, unnerved by the ways of 

such assiduous cultivation, there 

was beauty in such disorder; 

and the vying of the natural 

order of things with the defeated 

remnants of imposition gave rise to 

journey's end, so I wrote the cheque.

They say that nothing stays the same,

but they do not know the little cottage.

The riot of colour remains, only a small

stone pathway daring to intrude,

used by the postman and the odd stray

who occasionally passes this way.

Always, they remark on how lovely the

garden is, marvel at the hours of work gone

into such a creation, regretful they have so

much to do in their busy, modern world

and that there are not enough hours left

in the day to achieve such perfection. 

I should explain of course, it

would be no hardship; but for now

and for all the right reasons

I simply smile and nod my head. 

One day, they might understand and 

lay those same flowers at my graveside;

hopefully, in mild disarray, to let me know

that some things do indeed remain the same. 

Reviews

[Lyn Anderson]

I love the thought of the old owner being insulted by the current state of the cottage. I have actually met people like this, who spy on their old place, lamenting the loss of the garden, or change in colour. I too, have done it, when the new owner took away the front steps. What an odd thing to do.

[icelandicblue]

I agree that mild disarray is a state I am familiar with. There is beauty in things that are less than perfect especially gardens. This is a lovely poem about perceptions and our comfort with them. I enjoyed the walk down this gentle path.

[Lydia Shutter]

It is the disarray, the marred perfection, that makes a place poetic. You have captured that with your words. Some things become more beautiful with age. Such a beautiful scene you set and a wise life lesson you teach here. Lydi**

[Patrick]

Read a few more of your pieces, this one just gave me that hovis bread homely feel...it is rustic, true and easily depicted in the mind. Wonderbra

[roarke]

Seamlessly crafted. Beautiful images and words. A true poem. Enjoyed.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Another well described scene and one which describes you as well. The beauty in some disorder often gets ignored but you see it and let it happen. My own garden, although behind a utilitarian eighties house (so not so quaint as yours) I allow to have its own way too lol!

[ANM]

It sounds a wonderful place beautifully described. I love to see a garden that still holds its natural splendour. The wild places fill me with life! Lovely poem!

[Sami Khalil]

Wow. A stunning write and depiction of this cottage house with its mild disorder of its garden. Add a little rivulet and the romance will never end. Excellent...:).........

[Beccy]

Thank you Diego. I bought the cottage just over six years ago.It's quite old, and most of the garden plantings are equally as old. Aside from some occasional trimming and cutting back so as not to be entirely overrun, I just let everything grow how it fancies, (how lazy of me.) People do comment on the front garden, especially in the spring when it suddenly bursts into beautiful life.

Beccy.

[Tree]

This piece has me thinking about my own greenery, encompassing my home. It is a love /dislike relationship, but mostly love. My favorite part of the yard and garden is when there is order, yet disorder, too. Just like you allude to in your piece, A "mild disarray." It is hard to find people who appreciate and love to make things grow, people who take the time to trim a small tree as if it were a miniature bonsai, and don't mind the sweat and the dirt on their hands because, when it's all said and done, and the natural beauty absorbed ... that moment of contemplation and satisfaction, is a spiritual reward.

I enjoyed this piece Beccy.

Diego