Hanging basket of trailing begonias.....
cool petunias....
more sunbright begonias....
and the scorching back garden without the giant shelter of the grandfather Poplar Tree.
An unexpected rare gift - nearly a whole day home alone - while my husband walks by the sea in the company of my brother-in-law. I'm in a tizz about how to use this time, I don't want to squander it....so much I could do....
In the end I escape the milling crowds in town and let my small day unravel in front of me like spilled treasure. After cleaning out the ashes from the BBQ, scrubbing the blackened racks, hanging out the washing, dead-heading the Margaritte daisies, labelling the strawberry jam, listening to a Mindfulness CD, eating smoked kippers and salad for a late lunch, I stop and sit at the kitchen table with the glass doors blaring wide open.
And listen to the silence. It's even too hot for the bees to buzz. Not a whisper of air moves the ivy leaves. The agapanthus buds stop unfolding. The pigeons don't call each other. No children shout next door. No-one cuts their lawns or strims their hedges. It's like the garden is holding its breath....
The only sound is me cutting and tearing and sorting out the muddle of my loose leaf recipe file stuffed full of pages ripped out from magazines and newspapers, print-outs from the internet with hand written notes on them - some I've made many times and some are waiting to be tried - recipes for jam and chutneys, biscuits and puddings, tarts and breads, for salsa verde and vegetable pilaff....my own treasure trove....
And although I could bake a birthday cake for Sunday I don't want to put the oven on or make decisions, or be responsible for everything, or be good and kind and patient .... I just want to feel the stillness of this hot summer day pulse under my skin for a little longer.....till it's time to be the grown up one again....
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