Neighbour

An old woman stands outside her front door in a red dressing gown, looking slightly bemused, as a middle-aged couple carry shrink-wrapped blocks of wood into her home.

Wound

A lost petrol cap leaves a hole in the side of the car like a gaping wound.

Dull morning

The indoor tree struggles to keep its back straight for another day

Bus stops

Half-way down this road to nowhere a pair of fresh bus stops have sprung up overnight, like mushrooms. They are lit up from within and made of glass, and hold their place in the dark.

At the Tate Modern

More interesting than any of the art is the small girl with a pink skirt playing hide and seek with her friend among the piles of boxes like giant sugar-cubes. Her skirt keeps falling down and a parent keeps appearing from nowhere to hitch it back up, but she's having far too much fun to care.

More philosophical street furniture

Stencilled in fuschia pink spray-paint on dark dark green telephone exchange box on the side of the road: 'live your life'

Small flies

Small flies keep emerging from the potted hyacinth to land on the window next to their squashed brothers. Under the surface small white grubs wriggle and wait.

I missed the sunset today

even though I only turned away to write three emails and answer my phone. Another one down and lost to me forever.

Passing the turning to Horsepond Road

sparks off colours and movement in my head

White out

shining headlights into the fog only makes it thicker

Found

Today someone found my blog by searching for "the moon".

Moon

If the early morning sky were any darker it would be black. The window frames a cat-sillhouette watching comings and goings in her universe, and the spot-light reflected in the glass like a too-bright moon.

Titles of the photos around my desk

The vivid reds of mountain ash.
The stillness of an afternoon.
A spray of pale maples.
White birches - yellow leaves.
Frozen patterns.
Snow-covered rocks in the Sakauba River.
Cowberries nestled under a giant tree.
Gnarled rock along a stream.
A brilliant shower of leaves.

Driving home

the taste of blood in my mouth

The cat chirrups for his dinner

His idea of dinner-time getting earlier and earlier as the days pass...

Year Planner 2006

The square white days line up: a promise, a threat.

Roe deer

He's on the verge and is turned away from the road as if shy. I see Princess Diana, looking up to the camera through her lashes. He waits (with his soft body) to take a chance.

The poetry of street signs

Rose Hill, Blackbird Leys, Iffley.

Busker with a guitar

As I'm the only one walking through the subway, I stop and listen once I'm out the other side to see if he carries on singing. He holds tight onto his notes and his voice is pure.

The joy of comedy

First small schoolboy: walks straight into a lampost
Second small schoolboy (smiling): You do that every day and every day it's even LESS funny

Crumbling

Most days I see him walking his dog along the pavement - his legs don't work properly. He's a young man. Is he walking towards healing or is there something crumbling away?

Philosophical park bench

Sprayed in white paint on the dark wood: happy?

Long after rain

A patch of puddle on the carpark holds a scrap of sky.

Seeds

Clusters of seeds are buried deep in his thistle-down-soft belly hair. He chirrups as he lies down on the rug, the scorpion tail seed-ends are cutting in.

More pink

I sit the vase on the window-sill, so the sun can fill up the tulip-heads like joy.

Two more pots of shocking pink cyclamen

inviting Spring into the garden with flirtatious smiles

Squirrel

I push the white narcissi bulbs into the black earth as a squirrel might hide nuts for the long cold winter.

Shed

The window is fractured, the roof hurts and rampant ivy is swallowing it up. Next door's tiny shed could use some love.

a lump of meat

a lump of meat at the side of the road, its fur or feather wrapping rubbed off

Office building

One blind open, one blind shut. The building opposite is winking at me.

Happy New Year

The headlights illuminate seven bunnies, going about their early morning business. Red Christmas lights wrapped around trees float in the dark like Cheshire Cat smiles. An ambulance passes, dragging behind it the memory of an awards ceremony on TV last night, and a woman who'd barely survived the London bombings. Her words sliced through the glitter and lipstick - 'we're still alive, so we really should live'.