Dreaming of a Wildflower Garden, by Ross Walsh

My mother told me to
mow the lawn. I refused.
I pointed out that to
raze the grass, to behead
the flowers, to root out
the weeds, was to try to
take ownership of the

land. To mold nature to
our whims is to follow
in the footsteps of our
colonisers, to crush
the world around us be-
-neath our boot. Pillaging,
pitch-capping, famine and

war. Eight-hundred years in
the deafening roar of
the lawnmower. And what
of the bees? I feared them
as a child, wary of
their stings. Then I found one,
calmly dying, and made

him some sugar water.
I swear there was grati-
-tude in his compound eyes,
and a thank you in the
buzzing of his wings as
we said goodbye. Then I
realised how important

bees are to our planet,
and I dreamed of one day
planting a wildflower
garden for them. How could
I now destroy their food?
My mother insisted
that I finish my chores.

Learn more about Ross on our Contributors’ Page.

(Photo: Renee Hawk/flickr.com/ CC-BY ND 2.0)

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Ross Walsh

"Ross Walsh is a Wexford-born journalist and writer based in Dublin, Ireland. He was chosen by the Irish Writers Centre to be a Young Writer Delegate for the 2021 West Cork Literary Festival, and his work has previously been published in Stepaway Magazine, Beir Bua Journal, and The Honest Ulsterman, among others.

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