Photo by MF
There he was, almost at the top of my much
loved and well-nurtured Hollyhock!
An early morning visit to the garden, just
after the rain - a peaceful, relaxing Sunday morning. There he was slowly, slithering his way along
the long, tall stalk of the Hollyhock.
I tried to flick him off quickly and
quietly without causing too much anger and stress (for me or him?). But he tightened his grip firmer and
firmer. A battle of the wills ensued –
his and mine!
I was determined, as was he. I had grown and nurtured this one single
Hollyhock from a small, straggly seedling in a pot. Last year’s efforts of Hollyhocks had been
devastated by his army. They came, they
saw, they ate every leaf and flower in sight.
This year I was determined to win that battle and ensure my garden would
sport at least one fully-grown Hollyhock.
It became like an obsession. I
guarded the little Hollyhock seedling, nurtured its growth by staking it,
watering it regularly, moving it to a sheltered part of the garden. I checked regularly for evidence of him and
his army.
The little Hollyhock began to stretch and
grow independent of my motherly ways. It
sprang up tall and independent and started to shout to the rest of the garden,
‘Look at me. Look at me. How tall I grow!’ Okay, perhaps her voice couldn’t be heard by
everyone but on a sunny day with a gentle breeze, it’s amazing what can be
heard … if you listen carefully.
He glared with an air of defiance. I glared back. He moved slowly. I moved slower and flicked him off the
Hollyhock! No time to finish his Sunday
munch. He fell to the ground and ambled
forlornly into the undergrowth.
She smiled and whispered quietly, ‘Thank
you. Thank you for saving me.’
‘You’re welcome. Grow tall, my lovely’, I replied.
Slug seizing can be a tiresome job, but
someone’s got to do it!
