Gardening, I’ve realised, is easy. It’s clearing up afterwards that takes all the effort. This is true of many things, from cooking to relationships. Doing them is one thing; sorting the mess out afterwards is another.
Planting stuff is a doddle. Planting the right things in the right place is less straightforward. But both are easier than the clear-up. I’ve learned this the hard way, by working like an ox all day, only to leave the place looking as if a team of oxen has been driven through it. I had thought that pruning trees, fighting hedges, pulling up brambles and obsessively weeding counted as tidying. In this I was mistaken, because cutting, hacking and digging count as tidying only if you, well, tidy up after yourself. Leaving stricken branches and weeds where they lie creates more mess. Obvious really, but at some level I must have been thinking that all that browning vegetation would sort itself out by means of decay and decomposition. Or birds would take it away and build nests. Not so.
