Last weekend I spent some time weeding my garden.

'Weeding? In late October?', you ask. 'A bit late in the season to be tending the garden, isn’t it?' Well I must admit, I am using the term 'garden' somewhat loosely, and the word 'tending' even more so!

Gardening is a strange thing. At one time a chore and an inspiration…mind numbing in its pervasiveness, yet redemptive in its opportunity for reflection. And reflect I did. I found myself thinking about friends - and the similarity between friends and the plants in my garden.

Annuals, perennials. Those that grow only in the sun, while others prefer the shade. Some ever dependable and unassuming, when others promise more than they will ever deliver. Those that delight the eye, and others whose beauty can best be described by their remarkable individuality! Then there are those, which, like Bishop’s Hood, have a beauty which belies their poisonous potency; while still others, innocuous in the extreme, are calming, healing balms.

It seemed to me that there are as many types of plants and trees as there are friends…each having its own merit. Just as annuals are friends for a season; ground covers, friends for a reason; the mighty oak could be considered the friend of a lifetime.

As I ploughed my way through my 'jungle' - at one time hauling stuff out without so much as a backward glance, at another tenderly cosseting the promise of a meaningful interlude or two at some future time, I began to think about my friends.

And how I have 'tended' them of late. How, notwithstanding the abuse of neglect, there are those who still faithfully put in more than a mere appearance.

I began to wonder about myself. To ask myself, what kind of friend am I?

And you? What kind of friend are you?