Camouflaging Concrete
Forever seered in my memory is a day in May, seventeen years ago. I can still picture the dirt track wending its way down through a field covered in pernicious weeds, amongst which were
copious amounts of creeping thistles, large areas of nettles, clumps of dandelions peppered here and there, ample evidence of ground elder, and tall couch grass aplenty.
At the end of the track stood an old, derelict barn with crumbling walls and a corrugated tin roof.
Adjacent to it was a newly-built bungalow in front of which was a large patio paved with drab, grey concrete slabs.
There was a certain romance about the decrepit old barn with the barley field growing behind it and the uncultivated field of weeds adjacent to it.
But the bungalow, with its ugly concrete patio, looked incongruous and far too conspicuous, as if it had somehow fallen from the sky and landed right in the middle of this rustic scene.
My husband thought I’d taken leave of my senses when I said I’d like to come and live in the village, right in the heart of the countryside, when we had a perfectly adequate house in a nearby country town.
Besides, the latter had a small manageable garden, whereas this plot was just under half an acre, and it was covered with those pernicious weeds.
All he could see was dereliction and a mountain of work if the field was to become a garden.
I, on the other hand, saw a challenge, possibilities to create habitats for wildlife, maybe even ponds.
I knew I’d need to camouflage the bungalow, however, and quickly do something to soften the hard look of that ugly patio, which was laid out in all its drabness, under the front patio windows immediately adjacent to the front entrance of the house.
Best of all in my book, they are easily grown in profusion in the tubs and troughs, which cover most of the ugly grey patio I first set eyes on seventeen years ago.
