It was a while before I noticed the invasion. I work in an arid place. A landscape of industrial estates and car showrooms, serviced by convenience stores that rarely live up to their name.
Every lunchtime I go for a walk. Half an hour to clear my head and stretch my legs. And that’s when I began to see it. The bindweed wrapping itself around rusted railings and through old fences. The disctinctive white blooms bursting into life, surprisingly delicate for such a determined plant. Gardeners consider them a pest but in such barren surroundings, they are a welcome invader.
Damian Mark Whittle