Garden

I took the opportunity to lie in the garden this afternoon. A great treat for a city dwelling office worker. Joy of feeling the firmness of the earth against your back including the lumps and ridges of our less than perfect lawn. The sky was active today, white clouds moving across the blue, the edges like fractals swelling and thickening as they moved past. An ant carried a dead colleague across my paper, only to drop him and he was caught by the wind an whisked off, much to the distress of his transporter. Tits, sparrows and greenfinches got reaquainted with the feeders which I discovered were being emptied at an alarming rate not by them but by the gymnastic dexterity of our squirrel neighbours (so I moved them all around to put them off for a day or so). Our student neighbours on one side were chatting and laughing in their kitchen, and occassionally the boy who likes to sing burst into song (he's got one of those deep resonant male voices - good for song and carries well). On the other side our gardening neighbour was at work tying cutting rolling. And far away a bass thrum from some loudly played music, probably a Finsbury Park event.

I miss time. Summer holidays that were mrerely 6 weeks long seemed like an eternity. Mind filled with inquiry stuff, finding out about the world. Trips to visit the grandparents - two weeks of nothing but running around, playing in the creek, swimming in the sea, walking acros the heather. No plans. No arrangements. No diary. Nothing but enjoying the world around you.