Beware the bindweed

"Beware my lord of Bindweed, the green leaved monster that doth mock the meat it feedeth upon..."

Will Shakespeare (if he'd been a gardener as well as a playwright)

Every Spring I do battle. Armed with fork and trowel I dig in and attack, ripping through the advancing roots, weakening defences, flanking, chopping... Every year I make small advances but never win the war. Every time the bindweed just keeps on growing spreading its evil roots underground, sprouting from the tiniest of shoots, mocking me, laughing at my pathetic attempts to keep it at bay.

Last Summer I made a grave error. I gave up. I let it win and it twined its way through my roses, it choked, blanketed and clogged my shrubbery. It took over.

Now I've had to dig out the entire flower bed, wrenching my poor plants out and teasing the bindweed snakes from their roots before carefully replanting and hoping they survive the trauma. It has not been a pleasant experience and my muscles are protesting sorely.

Reminds me of how we deal with our troubles and anxieties. It's hard work keeping them under control, but necessary. For if we neglect what goes on underneath, the nasty roots like depression or resentment will spread and strangle your joy.

Beware the bindweed. Keep fighting!

Not my usual cheerful sort of post I admit, just a train of thought...  Rest assured I haven't been neglecting my emotional roots. All is well in the Wright camp!

Where do you do your best thinking?

Mine is when free from all noise - just me alone with my thoughts. It might be while driving, trying to get to sleep or, like yesterday, running.

Now before you all go getting the wrong impression about this sleek runner pounding the streets, let me allow you into a little secret. I woke up this morning feeling as though while I'd slept some fiend had tied my legs in a knot round the back of my head and then pummeled me in the stomach... It  has been a while since I ran...

It's only since I became self-employed that I really stopped exercising - which was a total surprise because I somewhat naively thought I would have more time on my hands to fling myself about. The trouble is that I don't often take a proper lunch break and my home office is right next to the fridge. Then, at the end of the work day and by the time my son has gone to bed, all I want to do is paint.

The exercise stopped and the pounds began to pile on. Now that waistbands are beginning to dig in, it has become time to stop the rot. But it hurts...

Anyway, I digress. I was supposed to be posing the question about best thinking time. Has anyone else noticed that they always come up with their best ideas when they are least in a position to write them down?

 PS: For the avoidance of doubt - that is not me in the photograph!