I am a terrible gardener, for many, many reasons, not least that I hate digging up healthy plants. So again and again I allow a few fast-growers to take over. This is particularly unfortunate with trees, as we live in a conservation area, and once they reach a certain size, I am not allowed to remove them. Reprieving that beech seedling was a terrible mistake – half the garden is now in deepest shade. And the oaks were probably not too sensible either. Add in the sycamores growing down from the railway embankment and it won’t be long until my long cherished, never achieved, idyllic image of a fantasy wooded garden will have to come to terms with the reality of an inappropriately sited small patch of proper, honest-to-goodness woodland. I wonder which will be the first to succumb – the garage? the tool shed? the house itself? Such foolishness – I must get out there and do something about it.

But there is a wren in the yew tree, and blue tits and long-tailed tits play tag across several gardens. I’ve seen a tawny owl sitting in the tallest trees on the embankment and parakeets pause there occasionally to rest. Robins appear when I do anything at all to turn over the leaves and there are blackbirds as well as the inevitable magpies and pigeons.

The squirrels may dig up my bulbs and drive the dog wild, but they are also planting future trees. And the fox cubs chase one another behind the fence – almost always just out of sight. The frogs would probably be happy whatever the pond’s surroundings, but spend a lot of time on the edge of the water, hiding in the deep shade under the leaves.

So what to do? Cut back, order and plant brightly coloured bedding? Or give in gracefully to the patchwork of green?

I think I’d better take a book outside and think about it for a while….