My Magical Moment by Jennie Hart

 Wild garlic, also called Ransomes

Had made itself at home

In the border in front of The Dower House,

Vigorously growing

Giving nothing else a chance.

Thin bulbs congealed

In the damp stony soil.

 

John laboured painstakingly

Over several Tuesdays

Separated out embedded weeds,

Prepared the narrow bed

For a new tenant

Ignoring the wild garlic seeds

Which ensure Ransomes thrives.

 

Fine fleshy roots

Spilled out of two black buckets

Oozing with sticky mud.

Katherine suggested a new home

In The Spinney, amongst the snowdrops,

Narcissi and thuggish ground elder

Which she hoped wild garlic would suffocate.

 

Alexandra, Andria and I

Must save some bulbs to grow along the Plum Tree Walk.

We use our long-handled tools and trowels

Dig carefully amongst the delicate white bells,

And the tender leaves of daffodils, no blooms yet.

Make space amongst the ground elder

Hoping to curb its enthusiasm.

 

It is dreary, repetitive work, but rewarding.

Our backs are bent over.

We plant little wet clumps,

Digging deep to make nests

For tough homeless bulbs.

Three hours later

We are glad the buckets are empty.

 

Now we can go home

And wash our garden tools.

I am cold,

I peel off my muddy garments,

Step into the shower,

A hot fine spray.

This is My Magical Moment!