One Small Step

A few weeks ago, I slapped on some sun cream, took a deep breath, donned a thick pair of gloves and boldly stepped out into the garden. It was time to tackle both my fears and the mounting piles of dead leaves and thick, sprouting weeds in the long-neglected garden. Considering, as reported in yesterday’s blog, that not much grows in the Pilbara unaided, we reasoned that it had been a really, really long time since anyone had touched the overgrown garden. Leaves were piled a good three or four inches thick under and around the trees and bushes and some of the weeds were so well developed they seemed to be attempting to masquerade as viable plants – in fact, I had to pause to consider whether a weed was actually a plant and vice-versa several times.


It was, however, the leaves I was most hesitant to tackle. The weeds would take grit and determination and a bit of hard work to heave out of the ground one by one, but disturbing the thick piles of mulchy leaves could very well disturb something else, something that has hidden in the soft, dark vegetation and made it its home. Knowing that at any moment I could send a snake slithering out of its hiding place, making a bee-line for my ankles, I armed myself with a long-handled rake and stood as far from the dark depths of the leaves as possible. I would make a few preliminary pokes, step several feet back and then, when I deemed it was safe to continue, begin the arduous (but hopefully now risk-free) task of raking up months worth of mulch. After I had raked all of the easier-to-get-to piles without incident, I was feeling a little braver and stepped under the branches and into the dark corners of the garden to reach the remaining leaves, looking around me constantly for spiders as I went.

Two hours and a litre of water later, I was feeling tremendously proud of myself – not only had I cleaned up the garden but I had tackled my fears of slithery, crawly creatures head-on. A few weeks previously, I would never even have considered stepping near those leaves, preferring a little patch of grass in the middle of the garden, far away from any dark, dangerous corners. Now of course, there aren’t any dark, dangerous corners as I can see every inch of the sun-dappled garden, thereby simultaneously transforming it into a safer, more relaxing haven where we can eat, read and play. We can now actually enjoy the garden and I have been pretty much cured of my debilitating fear of all that may lurk in the shadows.

Hang on, what was that sound? I think I may go inside now.