A knock on the door yesterday afternoon. SomeBeans answered it.
"Hello. Would you like your front garden tidied?"
If only the chap had come by in February, when the dwarf irises pierced through the soil and early crocuses offered their throats to the sunny skies.
Or April, when tulips and forget-me-nots waltzed together in the borders. Or May, when the Centaurea exploded like blue fireworks.
Or June and July, when the peonies managed to dodge the rains and flowered like the most plumptious of scented pompoms.
Where was he in August? Aster 'Monch' was the star of the show.
In September and October, other asters took over, to the delight of bees, hoverflies and butterflies. In November, Japanese anemones were still flowering.
Even a couple of weeks ago, the garden was shining. Frost scintillating on spent flowerheads and on evergreen foliage.
And then it rained. For a couple of weeks. Sparkling flowerheads offering their seeds up to goldfinches have turned to brown mush. Cardoon and Japanese anemone foliage has slumped and blackened. Fuchsia leaves have dropped.
And someone offers to tidy my garden.
Oh dear. For now, I'll continue to watch the goldfinches, blackbirds and wrens foraging through the sodden udergrowth for food. And then I'll get round to a bit of tidying. Probably.