Last Clematis standing
Men will continue to come and go minding their cement made businesses and the residents will be sipping coffee under the sun, chatting over the hydraulic hammer, as usual. Till summer’s gone, they’ll celebrate the end of each working day, overlooking the decaying coolness. Some will proudly continue to dump their expensive bio-peels on a growing pile of pests in the compost, and I am not keeping it healthy by pouring in new soil, water or organic matter. By the rotten remains, humans will bathe at the weekend (at least while the tank is yet kind of clean and the wheels are still sliding). I won't be filling up the bowls for the birds, the insects and the cats from which to drink freshly. But the office's clients and guests alike might cherish the wooden furniture right up to its final collapse: we stopped engaging in that level of maintenance two springs ago.
The gardener is not going to carry out another plants rescue mission, I won't be systematically approaching apathetic garden users to provide them with the necessary information about the eco-system or to discuss ongoing actions, not even to ignite some sense of community or basic citizenship. We are watering the plants and caring in little ways for three more days. Then it's up to the dear neighbors who care.
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