Here's a poem I wrote about it back in the day.
The bank at the back that slopes up from the ginnel:
I cherish it as a stretch of wild Nature
Where various kinds of grasses tangle
And cats- our cats- go hunting for mice.
I lift the little, chewed-up corpses
Off the floor with dustpan and brush
Then sling them back home up the banking-
Earth to earth.
Loosestrife chiefly and lots of nettles-
Stuff that will settle for builders' rubble.
We had a four foot foxglove once,
Heart-stopping, purple. A selfish neighbour
Carried it off to her own back garden.
Removing plants to the bank I don't want
Choking my borders. I hid a little
Ash tree there in a nettlebed.
I pay it visits. And yes I know-
How very old maidish of me. So what?
I mean to be shameless as I grow old.