In June, Jackie and I cleared the back corner of the half of the garden of the flat we rent in the hope of growing a lawn instead of the tangled mess of weeds and ivy. I was, I’m afraid to say sure it would fail.
We failed to do several things properly:
we failed to clear the ground fully of weeds
we failed to turn over the soil properly
we failed at not breaking our new gardening fork
we failed to create a level surface for the seeds
we failed to add enough compost
we failed to cover the soil with seeds evenly
we failed to cover the seeds with netting to stop the pigeons and the squirrels eating them
we failed to always spot when the pigeons and squirrels were eating the seeds and chase them away
we failed to water the seeds regularly
we failed at seeing the tiny shoots that emerged when we did occasionally remember to water the seeds and trod all over them
we failed when we did occasionally remember to water the seeds by using an old 2L coke bottle to dump too much patchy water over them until our neighbour kindly allowed us to use her watering can
we failed at taking care of the slim patches of grass that seemingly shot up overnight
we failed at noticing how suddenly those patches became recognisable clumps of grass
we failed to spot the point when those clump of grass joined up and became a luscious, and what some might call some raggedy, lawn in spite of all we have failed to do
we failed to weed it and so the lawn grows taller and more wild every day
we fail to care that the lawn is wild and messy because we failed at failing to grow a lawn and that is enough.
You can listen to an audio version of this newsletter below.
You may have noticed the tiny narrative has a new look! We’ve moved over to Substack, don’t worry we’re still free and you’ll continue to receive updates from us for as long as you’re subscribed. Our archive can all be found here
If you have a tiny narrative to share please get in touch at firstname.lastname@example.org