You know how it is. There’s always that one thing. That thing you see every day, and it just grates on you. You’re always on the verge of doing something about it, thinking “I’ll get to it,” but then, well, life happens. Or you figure someone else should deal with it. I was stuck in that loop for ages with this patch right outside my place.
It was this messy, overgrown strip of land. Technically not mine, probably the council’s, but they weren’t doing a darn thing. Weeds were having a party, bits of old rubbish kept appearing. It just looked awful, a real eyesore, and it bugged me every single time I walked past. I was perpetually “on the verge” of losing my temper about it, or “on the verge” of actually grabbing a spade.
Then one Saturday, I just snapped. Had enough. Told myself, “Right, today’s the day. I’m going out on the verge.”
So, I got started. First, I just stood there, hands on hips, surveying the chaos. Honestly, it felt a bit overwhelming. Where do you even begin with that kind of mess? Felt a bit daft, too, like I was about to fight a losing battle.
Next, I went inside and geared up. Found some beaten-up gardening gloves – the kind with holes in the fingers – and a couple of sturdy trash bags. Grabbing those tools, that was the real commitment. No turning back then. I started with the easy stuff: picking up plastic bottles, old wrappers, the usual junk. Already felt a tiny bit better, less like a crazy person.
Then I got a bit more serious. Dug out an old, rusty hoe from the back of the shed. Probably hadn’t seen daylight in years. Started hacking at the bigger weeds, the ones that looked like they were planning a hostile takeover. Man, that was tough work. My back started complaining pretty quickly. I’m not as spry as I once was, let me tell you. Discovered all sorts under that green mess – an old tennis ball, half a brick, even a single, very sad-looking sock. People are strange.
Then came the interesting part. My neighbor, old Mr. Henderson, shuffled past. Gave me one of those looks, you know, the “what on earth is he doing now?” kind. I just grunted a hello and kept at it. A bit later, another neighbor, Sarah from down the road, actually stopped. “Having a clear-out?” she asked. I just wiped my brow and said, “Trying to make it look a bit less like a jungle.” She nodded, then, to my surprise, said, “Hang on, I’ve got a spare rake.” And off she went!
Before I knew it, there were three of us out there. Sweating, pulling weeds, filling bags. We grumbled about the council, about lazy litterbugs, the usual stuff. But we were actually doing something. We didn’t transform it into a prize-winning garden, not by a long shot. We just cleared the rubbish, hacked back the worst of the overgrowth, and made it look… well, like someone actually gave a damn.
What I Reckon I Learned
- Sometimes, you’ve just got to stop thinking and start doing. Being “on the verge” of fixing something is a waste of time if you never actually cross that line.
- Even a small action, something that feels a bit pointless when you start, can actually make a difference. And sometimes, it gets other people moving too. Mr. Henderson even brought us out some lemonade later!
- It’s dead easy to moan about problems. It’s a lot harder to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty. But it feels a hell of a lot better afterwards, I can tell you that.
That little strip of land? It’s still not perfect. Weeds still try their luck. But it’s tidier, and it feels different. Every time I walk past, I remember that Saturday. It wasn’t some grand project, no heroic deed. Just me, finally getting off my backside and dealing with that patch I was always “on the verge” of sorting out.
And you know what? It made me look at other things in my life, other little “messes” or stuck points I’d been avoiding. Realized I was “on the verge” with a few of those too. Still working on them, mind you. It’s a process, isn’t it? This “out on the verge” business, it’s not just about pulling weeds. It’s about taking that first, sometimes awkward, step. Because sometimes, that’s all it takes to get the ball rolling. That’s my take on it, anyway. We’ve all got our own verges to tackle, I suppose.
