Badgers or something

I wrote this a month or so ago when things felt difficult. I’m embarrassed about it now and think it is indulgent crap, but I’m posting it because I wrote it and I have faith in our low readership, and then after this I don’t have to think of it again. I have also taken out all of the paragraphs for these reasons.

My allotment has grown over to the extent that I’m not sure it is mine any more. Several ant colonies have built lives for themselves in dissident parts. I think so far I have found maybe five different ant societies, as of 18.04. I haven’t worked out whether they are friendly or not and how closely they would be willing to bunch up in order to make room for my objectives. Potatoes have started to reproduce in all conceivable barren patches, and miscellaneous grubs inhabit the roots of grasses of which there is no discernible means to pinpoint ahead of time. Grasses I don’t have much sympathy for, their effortless success I think I can put it in to perspective by comparing them to the taller, balder, paler humans who dress themselves in pressed, dull materials. The bindweed has earned it’s place more than I, working all through the cold months when I was sheltering in my house, putting everything into those roots which are now bearing impressive girth and gearing up to emerge into the sun. If it wasn’t for their blatant disregard for the lives of other organisms I might let them stay, but someone needs to be the mediator, and at times, the judge over these metres if we’re going to have a conscience about any of this. I wanted to ask, do you know what guilt is? I’m not sure thinking is good for me, it debilitates me more often than it is productive. Have you noticed that the M5 is quieter lately? It’s because humans have been ordered to stop doing the work that is not directly essential to keeping us alive and just try to live, like you do, but we also aren’t allowed to touch strangers, because touching is now deadly to some of us and there is no way to know who. You and I can’t touch either.I don’t see you staring in to space a lot, you seem busy. Do you have to think for very long about what is the right thing to do next? The neighbour kids are narrating me again. And I’m narrating me to you, it’s all Holly-centric. That’s what I’m called, Holly- that’s what I call the dark bushes with the sharp, glossy leaves as well, the ones that often have the red berries. There is actually one up on the hill with yellow berries, but I’ve never seen one like that anywhere else. They think I can’t see them in the tree. I actually couldn’t see them in the tree until Dan pointed them out, I’m a little short-sighted, but I had been wondering about the rustling. I’m wondering now whether it’s our rod and cone ratios. You have a lot of rods, don’t you. I have a lot of cones, perhaps it’s my cones crippling me with guilt and indecision. Perhaps if I was more focused on light and dark like you, I could get along. I’m also thinking now, you don’t know yellow- it’s much lighter in the day time than other berries. My colour vision does a few good things, like allowing me to distinguish the superior yolk of a well nourished chicken, but not before inferior eggs are spoiled, and how important is it to have the richest yolk? Maybe I could just tune in to the rods, when I need them. And then back out again with the cones when I want to see complimentary colours or feel the weight. I hope you didn’t bite my cat before. The vet said that it was a creature with a very large jaw, and I don’t want to insinuate anything, but we don’t have any large dogs around here, and the cat does frequent these woods most evenings.