7 Words for Sunday – Little strawberry Picker


For my Mum –

Grandpy’s birthday.


Lone watcher

Softest grey

feathers nestle in the grass.

The tree is silent…

For the Senses

return –
appreciative mindfulness.

Nature calls Chez Moi

Today I seem to be operating a tea garden. First I invite my lovely next door neighbour round. We sit in the garden as my house is still in disarray from the decorating (an excuse, my house is always a mess). Last time she sat in my garden she went home worse for wear from over-indulging in Pimms – I had to escort her home, not easy as neither of us could walk straight. This time she sticks to PG Tips and we avoid looking too much like the chimpanzees of the tea advertisments.
As I wave her off, a distant family member passes by. I invite her in for tea (feeling of déjà vu here). The house is a biscuit and cake free zone today , I apologise and usher her through to the garden hoping that she won’t look left or right on the way. Who am I kidding? The hallway is so choc-a-block that even negotiating that short direct route is fraught with difficulty. Unfortunately she is desperate for the toilet and charges in as I attempt to guide her out of the back door. She is already in situ as I move the washing bag out of the doorway.
Calls of nature taken care of, we sit in the sun and talk about this and that – our conversation flitting like the butterflies and bees that hover around us. A tortoiseshell lands on the grass beside me and seems to be listening as though warning me that I should keep off certain sensitive subjects. She swats nervously at a bee that flies past towards a buttercup beside her and I say instinctively “it won’t hurt you, it is just looking for nectar.” But aren’t we all, in one form or another, looking for a little sweetness to brighten and sustain our life? A job, a romance, a hobby, a social life… are we so very different? I don’t think so.

Six Word Saturday

Lovingly planting bulbs – his favourite spot…

Lawnmower Action

The speckled thrush glances my way now and then but carries on pecking at the newly exposed feast beneath the old nettle patch. I continue giving the grass a haircut – it looks a bit ragged like it’s had a fight with a lawnmower.The patchy lawn looks like Scoobs after his summer visit to the poodle parlour and I try not to think about how he would have liked to roll in the freshly mown debris. I have never been so pleased to find little piles of dog poo hidden in the depths of the overgrown winter covering.

Discordant Strains and Bicycle Chains

A beautiful violin solo incongruously reminds me of when my eldest took up the instrument at school. She wasn’t awfully good at it. In fact awful sums it up but her enthusiastic practising was perfect for annoying the ‘Dragon Lady’ who used to live upstairs. Intolerance personified, she would bang on the window that overlooked our garden and swear angrily at my seven-year-old blithely riding her bike up the pathway of our own land…fair payback I thought!

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