Saturday, 9 April 2016

on the verge, 9th April 2016

   mow, mow, mow your lawn gently down the street..... once upon a while past I used to cut verges, roadside verges.... cut them, mow them, rake them, managing even some as strip meadows which some may find peculiar as they sit right alongside, or on the verge, of roads, sometimes major roads teaming with cars and lorries and bikes and every other imaginable trundling thing..... pollution, noise, run-off of god knows what cocktails of oil, rubber, salt, screen wash, petrol... and often sadly a dumping ground for the pig-ignorant who catapult all sorts of rubbish from their vehicles at high speed into these strugglingly green and pleasant refuges or seem to believe that the contents of their in-car ashtrays don't count as litter......... not to mention being one vast toilet for dog-walkers, or at least their dogs anyway........ people are disgusting basically......... I have found worse in verges which I won't go into here as you may not have had your breakfast yet...... hence 'twas a job of mixed blessings............ the satisfaction of an appropriately-kept verge is, well, satisfying, and not all cut within an inch of their grassly lives as the benefits they offer as meadows and havens for wildlife are remarkable.... a whole ecosystem if allowed can establish itself in these and some can be home to the rarest of plants........ the open air..... cough, cough, apart from along the busiest of them, car fumes....... standing on the verge you really understand the speed at which cars go in relation to your dogged footsteps wrestling a strimmer, wrangling a rake or manhandling a mower....... it became an art, or a craft, each site managed differently depending on whether its for wildlife or amenity or simply function........ mostly ignored they hold a plethora of secrets and surprises......

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