Somewhere, everywhere, there is a war going on. Always. All the time. Every minute of every hour.
And it is somewhere near you right now.
We humans consider ourselves to be war-like, aggressive and dangerous (except for me). But the nature all around you is far worse. Every tree is fighting upwards for a greater share of precious light, every blade of grass is fighting for an unfair share of the land around it. Nature is a fight. Nature is war.
And my job is peace-keeper.
My job is to control the aggression and weed out the...erm... weeds.
And yet, despite my best efforts, despite acres of plastic liner, despite hours of herbal specism and manual removal, despite the occasional chemical and even biological warfare, I cannot rest.
The weapons of war are scattered around...
For now I am winning. For now my favoured plants are prospering.
Many have been quiescent overwinter, but with a little protection against the cold, some are already recovering with gusto.
The bananas, for instance, are going bananas.
Roses bloom despite constant regiments of aphid infantry controlled by their supreme leaders, the ants.
The ponds are surrounded by colour, each flowering beauty fighting to attract the most bees.
And in the murky depths, the lotus has obscenely burst forth, pushing aside all comers, like an alien porn show.
And in the duck pond, the winter of Cold War has now been blown apart, with each egg-layer believing itself to be the most important in the pecking order. The black swans have laid twenty eggs so far this spring. For some reason they do not appreciate these being turned into omelettes.
Approaching the nest can be a little fraught...
The peacocks are some of the few who are not at war.
Love.
Not war.
Although she may be more interested in food...
