It’s been a while since I’ve posted about Foxgloves. But today I went for a walk in the field where this blog all began with Esme’s Adventure with Foxgloves.
The foxgloves are out in force. Even more so than last year. They’re everywhere and they’re beautiful.
I thought I’d reached a point of coping with it all. I make jokes. I’m flippant.
Sometimes people comment about how relaxed I am about it. I’m not. Beneath the surface I’m traumatised and frightened. The What-Ifs still haunt me. But less often than before.
This morning has made me somber.
Esme was with me on the wander. I held her hand and pointed at the flowers.
“Yes.” She said, “Beautiful flowers.”
“Beautiful flowers, but they make you very sick. Don’t touch.” She nodded as though she understood.
We came to another clump, “Can I touch these ones?”
“Yes.” She said firmly.
“No,” I repeated, “They make you sick. Ouch. Don’t touch.”
Every time I asked if I could touch them, she said yes, and I despaired.
But she’s still only two. My tiny idiot is still small.
I’ve kept on top of the encroaching foxgloves in the garden. It hasn’t been easy. But they’re under my control now.
I don’t want to control nature. I don’t want to control the beautiful wildflowers in the field. I don’t want the bumble bees to stop bumbling into them. I don’t want the caterpillars to move on. I want it all to carry on as it did before it changed my world.
I want my tiny idiot to stick to her evolutionary programming that tells us not to eat things that taste that bitter.
But she’s decided to take a different path, and I’m going to have to parent the child in front of me.
As for her, she is great. She’s wonderful and perfect and infuriating.
It’s a bank holiday weekend, and we’re going to spend it outside, as so many will.
Can I just make one small request? Could you have one quick double check around the garden if you do have small children. Just a casual glance.
If you’re planting foxgloves, I don’t blame you, they’re gorgeous, then just take a moment to think about putting them somewhere small children can’t get to them.
Remind your children not to eat things they find outside. Don’t assume they remember you saying it last year, like I did.