The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.

They toil not, neither do they spin

5 Comments

My sister and I were brought up to know about literature. The Bible was literature as well as Dickens and other stuff. Sometimes little phrases pop into my head.

We went to a famous garden at eyewatering expense the other day. I wore my new red shoes which was a mistake. I am still recovering. And we wandered around from the formal gardens to the wild gardens.

The formal sections included the Topiary. There we found gardeners of all kinds watering, snipping, checking every detail, working hard. The gardens between the topiaries had the beds neatly planted out with seedlings lined up like little soldiers all in a row.

Control, control, control. Man’s authority over nature seemed somehow sad to me. The ancient topiaries, artistic and beautiful as they are, have been constructed over hundreds of years.

My red shoes complained as we wandered through. There were benches there but my sister, who is older and frailer than me, never once suggested we sit down. She had her walker thingy to assist her.

But the wild gardens were the most wonderful of all. They were, well – wild! There were no gardeners there, only butterflies and bees; and wild plants and flowers. And exuberant joy.

It was worth the exorbitant gate price just to see those.

I forgot about my new red shoes. And something popped into my head.

Consider the lilies of the field how they grow,they toil not,neither do they spin, yet I say unto you even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Again, there were benches. But we never sat. I could have sat there for hours contemplating, absorbing, breathing beauty. Instead, I shuffled around behind my sister in my new red shoes feeling the pain. I bet Solomon made sure he was wearing comfy shoes at all times. He was a wise man, not vain, not silly like me.

Author: Elizabeth

I'm someone also pounding the Path, just like you.

5 thoughts on “They toil not, neither do they spin

  1. Things in my garden behave themselves, or at least they are supposed to. This doesn’t include Dog Thing who is now busy trying to dig up the Septic Tank.

    Liked by 1 person

    • In the old days, that was fertiliser.

      Like

      • Not any more around here. But I have got a very good old tank that knew what it was doing and rarely needs to be emptied, if ever.

        They try to tell me that I must, but I just ignore them. And Brussels notwithstanding there is nothing that they can do to me. This is a fact. There is no Law that says I must.

        The last time I lifted the lid The Pug fell into the shit tank so I amn’t doing that again in a hurry. And it didn’t need to be emptied anyway.

        Some things need to be left alone.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. It was hilarious, Liz. I was collapsed against the wall from laughing. But only after this officious little shit hoiked her out and up to his elbow in poop.

    The rule being, don’t tell me to take the lid off my septic tank when I already know what it is doing. It is doing really okay. I would know if it wasn’t. I have lived with this tank for thirty years and it does precisely what is expected of it. I could have told him that, but No, he wanted to see what I had already told him

    These old Bretons knew what they were doing when they built these things. A bit like houses. Nothing ever fails around here.

    However it has been five years now so I might just have a look at it in a minute, just in case.

    No, my septic tank doesn’t infect the water table. There is no water table around here. I live at the top of a very big hill so everything drains downwards by many metres to the River Blavet, which in itself is doing really okay.

    How did I get here to this? The Little Shit is still wrecking my garden.

    Liked by 1 person

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