Currently, the most noticeable feature in our garden is an empty supermarket trolley.
The children who rammed it into a clump of bamboo beside our front door probably weren’t the ones who stole it. I expect it was passed from group to group several times along the two miles between the shop it came from and its final resting place in our garden (and abandoned and re-bagged and put in ditches and pulled out and ridden in and . . . ).
I wheeled it in through the back gate and phoned the supermarket to say we have it. Someone would come to collect it. Good. No-one has come. Bad. I keep forgetting to remind them. The trolley rusts. I’ve put plants in it when there’s been no-where else to put them and taken them out again. (There are two clumps of rhubarb still there waiting to be re-located). Sometimes I pile pots where toddlers are supposed to sit.
This doesn’t mean it’s useful to have a supermarket trolley in the garden. It isn’t.
When Ming brought the last barrow load of runner bean poles and tools back from the allotment, he was tired and dispirited. It was getting dark and he no longer had the oomph for moving the box for jars out of the way, nor the box for tins, the brown bucket for food waste, nor the huge green wheelie bin in which ‘residual waste’ is collected once a fortnight (our council is keen on recycling) nor the ordinary black dustbin, let alone the supermarket trolley - so everything simply got shoved forward a notch until the trolley arrived smack bang in the middle of the garden. Then it snowed.
The snow’s gone. The wheels of the trolley have sunk over the edge of the path onto the narrow strip in front of the box bushes where I buried bulbs a while back and where seeds are already sown ready for spring. Our garden didn’t look romantic in the snow. I tried taking photos but from wherever I pointed the camera, the un-lovely trolley was in view, harshly shaped and standing out as an angular lump amidst the softer lines of bent leaves.
I should phone to have it taken away.
I’m daft. I’m writing this instead.