Overcast. I apologize to the flies still gathering where the dog poo had lain, missing their breakfast. A wood pigeon watches from the roof.
Tuesday August 14, 2018
The blue tits depart one by one. Empty now, the elder tree pivots gently in the wind. The sound of a hand saw like something breathing.
Monday August 13, 2018
After days of raininess but little actual rain, the garden is simultaneously damp and dry. A second tomato has begun to ripen on the stake.
Friday August 03, 2018
Far above the usual noise of the builders, two rusty hinges squeak and whine: two gulls, an adult and a juvenile, wings opening and opening.
Wednesday August 01, 2018
A blackbird sings then eats; a robin eats then sings—both in the elder with its clusters of berries bending lower and lower as they darken.
Tuesday July 31, 2018
The rose’s leaves shine white in the sun. A white butterfly detaches from one of them and zigzags into the sky—the antithesis of autumn.
Monday July 30, 2018
Overcast and blustery. A tiny caterpillar abseiling down from the elder tree has changed its mind and is slowly, flailingly going back up.