Here’s a hedge that isn’t a hedge any more. For a varied catalogue of reasons it hasn’t been trimmed for a while. This happens.
People look around and think to themselves “Well, a hedge would be nice along there. It will . . . ” and so the ground is prepared, bits of stick are hammered in in a nice straight line and strings are tied on to them. The plants are planted exactly eighteen inches apart and fed and watered regularly. Once a year or so, around August, someone comes along and gives it a trim, looking at each of the bushes individually to decide what to cut and what to fold inside. Come the spring they walk along it patting its compactness and thinking how nicely it’s coming along.
And then, other priorities intrude. Perhaps the reason for the hedges existence no longer exists, or maybe it just isn’t that important any more. May be the person who was the driving force behind the idea that a hedge was needed is no longer around – we all shuffle off this mortal coil in the end, or emigrate, or move house. Somehow, those we leave behind just don’t see things in the same way and our hedge, which once took up so much of our time and attention, is left to its own resources.
I wonder if it misses us?