Sunday, April 29

The promise of courgettes

The seedlings are inching their roots downwards, reaching their bodies up towards the sun.

Saturday, April 28

Learning new birds at the birdfeeder

We find it in a book crowded with wings and beaks - 'Greenfinch'. Everything on this wonderful planet has a name.

Friday, April 27

Photo of ferns on my office wall

A Japanese man stood in front of these ferns and clicked the shutter - where? When? They are straight and green and still alive.

Wednesday, April 25


He pulls up his sleeve in the graveyard, where anyone could see him, and waits as his friend hands him something I can't see. His skin is pale, like a worm in freshly dug earth.

Tuesday, April 24

The soles of her feet

She jumps off her bike and knocks the girl over, shouting and kicking her in the head and stomach. There are men with them, they raise their voices and step in, pulling them away from each other. Just further on, a pink pool of cherry blossom lies under a naked tree. I pick one up, as if it might help. It has no scent. The tissue-thin petals are as soft as the soles of that fighting woman's feet when she was a baby.

Monday, April 23

New home by a busy road

He came to mow our lawn, the new lawn. We said we had 2 cats - he laughed and said 'for how long?'. The neighbours cat was knocked down last month. Today three women stood around another dead cat on the verge, one of them holding her forehead. Never mind the cats (of course I do) - it's an important question for all of us.

Saturday, April 21

Man in a bright orange Post Office vest

He looks a little too old, wild-haired and wild to be a Post Office employee, but I give him the benefit of the doubt. When we spot him again the can of strong cider in his right hand gives him away.

Friday, April 20

Usual drive

The flowers in the bouquet tied to the sign have also died. Will I always be so shocked by the colour of ripe rapeseed? Daffodils and buttercups light my way to work.

Thursday, April 19


pink and blue sky, whisper of moon, even(bird)song

Wednesday, April 18

One, two, three...

I count them as I pick them up. The fag butts. I count them. That's a quarter of a million since Christmas. I count them as I pick them up.

Tuesday, April 17

pink pink pink

the cherry blossom hangs down, bears the tree (and me) up

Monday, April 16

Sunday, April 15

Rhubarb disaster

It was meant to be rhubarb crumble, but the crumbs slipped into the purply liquid like a sinking island.

Saturday, April 14

Mr. and Mrs.

Colour-splashed Mr. Pheasant stalks across the garden like he owns it. Mrs. Pheasant follows behind - drab brown, with a quiet dignity of her own. They both snack on the seed that has leaked from the feeders before continuing with their morning stroll.

Friday, April 13


The birds cheep 'thank you thank you thank you' for their seed, a full feeder already gobbled up.

Thursday, April 12


I'm sure I put my poetry-writing widget down somewhere around here....

Wednesday, April 11

Tuesday, April 10

Just like that

Burrowing a few Pink Fur Apple potatoes in the soil will mean digging up many more when summer arrives.

Monday, April 9


the whole of Monday slipped into the water before I could get a hold

Sunday, April 8

sunny easter

a pastel-yellow butterfly mistakes a dandelion for his sister

Saturday, April 7


a single tulip saying 'red!' against the white brick walls

Friday, April 6

Sunday, April 1


A digger tips its scoop: the sand slides out as if from a cupped palm.