Reflections on the puddle of life

We live in a new village, in fact it's still in the process of being built. Recently we were advised that the local Council have decided to adopt our street which means that they'll take responsibility for maintenance of the road and the services (electricity, water, etc). Which is a good thing. However, our street is a little unusual in that it is block paved and there are no pavements, effectively it is pedestrianised; so everyone has a section at the end of their garden and driveway under which the services are buried. When we moved into the house we were advised by the builders that we could not plant any shrubs or trees in that area, so we didn't. We planted some grasses and some flowers and apart from that the only plants in the serviceway are those which were planted by the developers.

With the Council adopting the street the rules have changed! We received in the post a letter and incriminating photograph of our garden, advising us that the following rules applied:

- nothing could overhang the edge of the kerb.
- remove all plants with the potential to grow in excess of 600mm.

Of course every plant that the developer planted exceeds this height, and in addition one of our grasses (which is beautiful, by the way) is over 6ft tall! The letter advised that anything which did not meet the guidelines would be removed by council workers and left on our driveway when they came round to inspect.

We took a long hard look at the garden. The plants the developer had planted weren't especially nice and we've found, over the years, that the front section is really difficult to keep neat. So we decided, after some deliberation, to pull everything out, replant those plants we wanted to keep, and lawn over the end section down to the road.

You might be beginning to wonder what this has to do with snails.

Last weekend the weather was okayish and as the Council hadn't given us any deadlines we figured we'd better get cracking. My husband started off by cutting back all the bushes and digging out the roots. Together we pulled up the grass and replanted. My daughter, who is 5, came along and asked to help so we set her to work with a hoe and she got hoeing! It was not a good idea to get within a metre radius of her (we all have bruises!), and somehow the activity of hoeing turned into the creation of a grand worm palace for the worm princess to live in! My son came along a little later and also joined in and a bit later on still we had most of the under 5 year olds that live on our street digging away with their little spades and trowels like a miniature Ground Force army! Some might call it child labour but they were begging to join in and had a fantastic time grubbing around in the dirt!

There was one massive bush which was swamping about a fifth of a section near the driveway. I started cutting it back and as I was cutting I came across a snail, like so (not my picture, see credits):



now, I'm actually kind of fond of snails. I see a lot of them when I'm cycling, some strange greenish-yellowish ones live down near an old hall, and I find their shiny-whirly shells kind of fascinating. So I picked it up, showed it to the kiddies who all thought it was amazing, and placed it safely out of harms way under another bush. Carried on clipping the bush and found some more, and some more, some curled tightly in their shells, others reaching out with their bumpy eye-antennae in wonder at their first flight!

Anyway, getting eventually to the point, the whole thing reminded me of this lovely poem by Fleur Adcock, one of my favourites. I thought it would be nice to share. Enjoy.

For a Five-Year-Old

A snail is climbing up the window-sill
into your room, after a night of rain.
You call me in to see, and I explain
that it would be unkind to leave it there:
it might crawl to the floor; we must take care
that no one squashes it. You understand,
and carry it outside, with careful hand,
to eat a daffodil.

I see, then, that a kind of faith prevails:
your gentleness is moulded still by words
from me, who have trapped mice and shot wild birds,
from me, who drowned your kittens, who betrayed
your closest relatives, and who purveyed
the harshest kind of truth to many another.
But that is how things are: I am your mother,
And we are kind to snails.

Fleur Adcock


*note, I have not ever drowned any kittens!!!