The way the sun sits .

 

The way the sun sits this evening gilds the birds . There are silver seagulls on the wing . Their gleam will only be extinguished by the night . 

Meanwhile I wait for Friday when , they say , the heat will abate . 

Till then I languish . A melting ice lolly . languorous . lazy . Letting the book on my lap fall shut . 

By the end of the week I should be able to watch the rain wash the dust from the blackberries and elderberries . For now though the preserving pan and my attendant plans can wait . 

There is silence and a slight breeze to keep me occupied .

Swan or shorn ...........

Such is the nature of the fields around the estuary that what , from a distance , looks like a field of sheep is sometimes a large flock of grazing swans . 

I love to look at the white origami of the shapes in the distance and as we draw near take further clues . 

It can be a puzzle ,  like one of those photographs of a familiar object taken from an odd angle .

Which is better to discover sheep or swan ?

Along the way some fields have been cut and the  stubble ploughed in . The soil is a rich brown and could only be improved, you feel , by some custard and double cream .

Before lock down I had my hair cut by a " ladies hairdresser " and not a " good cutter " . A " good cutter"  is more often to be found in the city whilst a " ladies hairdresser"  would only be there for the  Ideal home exhibition .......

So , bad cut , dye growing out, split ends and hair generally indicative of much sea . salt and beach time spent post lock down .

Then , last Saturday ,  on one of those impulses , I dashed through the rain to a " good cutter "  . 

I took a chance never having been there before . 

I mentioned Annie Lennox , he nodded and cut . He cut and razored down the lengths until they were all gone and there was my natural brown hair minus the "stubble " of the split ends , dye etc .

Which is better swan or shorn ?

I smiled into the mirror, paid him a fortune and sashayed out into the rain .

Do I look hot ?

Yes .

Sand .

Little boys run up and down the beach like sand pipers .

The vivid green of the sea holly is that of pea pods .A small dog with a red collar raises his head and sniffs the salt in the air .

I collect a bag of bladderwrack . I love the smell of seaweed as the best of smells . 

I shall hang it by the back door tomorrow . 

It is not , as some would , hung as a weather barometer . for any fool knows that if the seaweed is wet it is raining ! 

No , it hangs there so that when I open the door on a damp morning I smell the shore again and mentally cancel what can wait . 

It is always good to listen to what the waves have to say .

Sometimes a bit of lonely is nice .

As lockdown has eased its been baguettes on the beach . 

( we are in the car or away from it on a wide lonely beach - sometimes a bit of lonely is nice .) 

Sand between my toes and a sunny breeze on my lockdown hair .

We went again on my birthday . Well , there's no gallery or museum so that was what I chose .

  Good choice - it was that soft rainy day and everything was so green and blue in the landscape .

Down the back roads with red legged partridges trying to race the car and hawks riding the soft air currents . Out along the estuary to a philosophical ocean which takes 2020 as par for the course for humans and gets on with slapping the quay .

Today , though , I stayed at home . The saxophonist went to the allotment . Planting in the poly tunnel I interrupted him him asking him to bring back some broad beans .He held me up going on about his erection . 

I know and he insisted on telling me ,  in depth  , about the runner bean frame he was about to erect . 

He isn't normally one for the double entendre  and I have already told him to use the hair clippers he bought to make him attractive again .

 So your guess is as good as mine . At least I'll get some runner beans out of it . They are my favourite - perhaps that was it .

So I got him off the line and got on with my own gardening .I'd bought some unusual poppies from road side stands so they went in the front garden . It's a blaze of cottagy English garden just now .

The back garden is all greens . You go through an old Victorian passage and out among beds of ferns and herbs  . A green jungle .

( The space that isn't beds is carpeted with oyster shells we collected over a winter with strange tides  . They came in  , hundreds and hundreds of them .  I usually collect sea glass but this was a winters project . )

There is a recycled table with a toughened glass top and half a dozen heavy fold up wooden chairs .

There's a bench at the bottom in the shade of an old Victorian wall . 

I've recently acquired a large statue of a naked boy . The statue has carved drape fabric so that his buttocks are on show and his " construction for runner beans " is veiled .

Anyway , then to all the new plants for the back garden and fresh herb seeds in the cold frame .

Round the naked boy I've put nasturtiums and morning glory . In due time he will have some snakes head fritillary as a companion and later he can gaze on jasmine .

So when I had done that lot and watered it all in I made some good coffee .

I sat at the table with the coffee and a cigarette .

 Under a blue , blue sky I and naked boy enjoyed the slight breeze and time to think our own thoughts at leisure . 

I thought how good this feels - the quiet . the coffee , the cigarette and the green , green garden .

I have no idea what naked boy thought . Experience earlier in the day made me incline to the view that it is sometimes better not to know what the male species wants to tell you .

After all I was hot , muddy and tired and not a bit concerned about why naked boy was showing off his arse - lets not forget that sometimes a bit of lonely is nice . 

Bear witness

 

My fellow blogger and friend has put up a post for Thursday 4th of June .

She is on blogger and her blog is called 37 paddington .

I know I have many visitors who prefer not to comment ( and some who do ) .

Can I ask you to go over to the post .

I want people to know what she has written .

Four metres long and two metres wide .

The shed we inherited at the plot turned out , in actuality , to be a tool store . It is not tall enough for me to stand in .
I had visions of sitting contented in the door way on a rainy day with a steaming mug of tea .
To be truthful that was half the idea .Leisured cosiness out of the rain and all that implies .

Word came to us that a fellow plotter had bought his daughter a poly tunnel . She then announced she was moving and did not want it .

Sooo .... two hundred quid's  worth of poly tunnel ours for fifty quid .

Today we cleared the area where we will erect it .

I ache all over and that's after a long soak in the bath and one of my steak and onion pies .
My hands , arms , legs , belly and upper lip all have deep ugly bramble scratches .

Was it worth it I hear you ask ?

I reply  : OH yessy , yes , yes .

I am going to brew tea in there . I'm going to read a paperback in a chair in there . I'm going to think about everything and nothing in there . Heck , I may even plant seeds in there .

What I really want to do in there is a secret ....... however, if you should pass and there is loud unladylike snoring coming from the poly tunnel you will know my wish has come true .

Doves and fennel seeds .

A blogging friend sits , she says , and in the other room her husband is making cooing noises .
There is a Mourning dove that comes to the window sill of their locked down New York apartment . He and the dove chat in their language then both go back to their respective lives .

I was walking along and a surly looking man appeared in the opposite direction . I crossed over and we came closer , each in separate " lanes ".
He glared at me .
I glared at him .
Then on impulse I grinned and gave him a thumbs up His face split into a broad grin and he gave me a very vigorous wave . We grinned until we passed each other .


In the supermarket I stood by the herbs and spices . An asian man stood at the other end .
This  time they had curry leaves .
" Aah " I said delightedly as my hand shot out to claim the little jar ."
" Oh ",  said the asian man " you got what you wanted ".
"What did you want ?" I said .
 "Fennel seeds " he said sadly .
I looked  along the racks at my end " They're here "I said and pointed to a couple of jars that were left . His face lit up and I left him to claim his prize .


On MiSoul radio ( a digital station specializing in soul music ) one of my favourite DJ's says he will play his favourite down load  that we have all fallen for .

Across Twitter and Facebook people announce to him their intention to dance in their kitchens .

Wailing raunchy sax ensues and there we are all singing with Norma Jean Bell " I'm the biggest bitch in the room ".
We all felt better for that .


There isn't enough ham for two so I open a small tin of salmon for the saxophonist's baguette .
Mayo , cucumber and lettuce are introduced and I hope he won't moan about the substitute .
" I did enjoy that " he says  .

Inconsequential specks of satisfaction but enough to keep the traction going .