There are men working at the bottom of my garden. Repairing a fence, building a new shed where the old worn out one used to sit. The bottom of the garden used to be a wilderness; overgrown, unsightly but incredibly private and peaceful. But there are, as is inevitable in life, changes afoot. The old Victorian house whose garden adjoins ours has been sold and the developers are moving in, so it’s time to reclaim the boundary from the Mile a Minute and Hazel trees, make the shed secure and repair the broken down fence.
I’ve a mind that this is a sad event – the peaceful, wild oasis that used to reside at the bottom of the garden will be tidied, spruced up and secured. The foxes that live in the garden of the old Victorian house will no doubt relocate, although I’m sure I’ll still hear cubs in the spring play fighting in the garden again before long. The robin with the white wing tip that keeps me company when I hang out the laundry at the bottom of the garden will no doubt weather the storm – he’s there right now as the builders dig, ferreting out insects happily and delighting in his robin-ness.
Before long there will be houses just over the fence where once there was an orchard, there will be children playing where the foxes used to play and there will be the noise and bustle of day to day life where there used to be peace. But maybe we’ll make friends with the people who will live in the new houses, certainly people will have new homes, and the builders will have jobs whilst the houses are built and maybe, it’s simply time for things to move on. And I expect the robin will still delight in his robin-ness, wherever he finds himself.