If there’s a will, there’s a way

Spring has sprung and inspired Martin Silvester to write an amusing poem about gardening …. 

If there’s a will, there’s a way

I should be so excited, spring is really here,
The grass is looking greener, now where’s my gardening gear.
I meant to clean the mower up, but as usual, I forgot,
Now where are last years seeds I saved, did I put them in a pot?

I wish I’d done the pruning, but there’s no-one I can blame,
And I wish I’d whacked the weeds again, before the winter came.
I seem to do it every year, the garden just gets missed,
Because there’s always something else to do, like a Christmas list.

But the daffodils are blooming, so I find my garden rake,
And end up with a pile of leaves, which to the dump I’ll take.
I then attack the flower beds, bind-weed and grass go flying,
The fork goes in, then breaks in half, without me really trying.

The fence is looking dodgy, looks like the posts have rotted,
And half the patio tub shrubs, will have to be re-potted.
The hedge is looking overgrown, no time to have a rest,
I guess I’ll have to cut it, before the birds all start to nest.

The veggie patch needs digging, the Montana needs a trim,
The pond is full of winter slime, in fact, it looks quite grim.
The greenhouse has some broken panes, the doors come off its tracks,
And the garden paths developed…some nasty looking cracks.

So I get a chair out of the shed and sit under a tree,
Treat myself to a custard cream, and a soothing cup of tea.
I used to love the garden, with all the work that it entails,
I’d look forward to the springtime, at the end of winters gales.

But now I’m getting older, I don’t seem to get the pleasure,
Or the joy my garden brought me, before I had my leisure .
I’ve waited a whole lifetime, for these golden days to come,
To watch my flowers blossom and hear the bumble bees all hum.

It’s ok having kneeling pads, it’s my knees that are a pain,
The getting down is not too bad, but I can’t get up again.
Bending…twisting…pulling..reaching, all the things I used to do,
I’m just not the person I used to be, unfortunately, it’s true.

So..do I get a gardener, to weed and mow the lawn,
Or do I think of downsizing, now I’m feeling worn.
Or do I stick my chin out, faint heart never won a war,
Don’t let  aches and pain make me…. walk through the old age door.

I think my answers plain to see, don’t give up the things you love,
Find a way to compromise, it’ll be too late when your above.
You’ve got the time to eke it out, so do a little bit each day,
Don’t try to do it all at once, If there’s a will…there’s a way.

Written by: Martin Silvester