Looking, walking, being

The great tit finds a fat black sunflower seed he likes the look of. He holds it delicately in his feet and digs his beak in. I shift my gaze a hand-span and read Levertov's poem, my eyes burrowing into fanfare, howl, madrigal, clamor.

The painters have painted around the big heavy storage shed leant up against the garage wall. I think, they should have made the effort to move it. I think, who can blame them.

a big old cloud in an empty sky, complete with ears, fluffy tail, and a paw held up in greeting

harvesting supper

so many spears of purple sprouting broccoli, so many leaves of glossy spinach

big garden, small gardener

the trick is to concentrate first on this courgette seedling, then on this cornflower seed, not forgetting to watch the cat sleeping in dappled shade, to notice the rosy pink of this disappearing worm

Fatty after rolling in engine oil and getting a shampoo last night

Sniff his neck this morning: his fur still smells of ginger

Lifted from its hook, the mug holds warmth risen from turning bread golden.

Sometimes there IS such a thing as too much cake.

Sunsenedibu

I'm reluctant to bang on about flowers again, but have you ever seen vivid spatters of Senetti against dark bark chip jolting through the drizzle? This deep blue variety's name is Sunsenedibu.

so much to say thank you for

this fine bone china mug of black earl grey with half a teaspoon of sugar
this baby's breath with clusters of pom-pom blooms and tight round buds
this painter telling me about goldfinches, painting white cottage white
this car to carry me, this colander to drain spaghetti, these walls to hold the roof up
all of you, all of you, every one of us

someone found me here today by googling this:

'how to roast red roosters'

in Yummy, Chinese restaurant

lots of fresh mango whizzed up with ice, the peach-coloured gelatinous mixture holds the straws bolt upright

The veggie cafe, with its breakfasts of hash browns, garlic mushrooms, eggs, ciabatta, beans and veggie sausages, is unexpectedly shut when we turn up. I carry the disappointment around with me all day.

Open mic

Unkind thoughts flicker through my head, leave something singed.

bronc riding

a great-tit clings on to the long bendy elder branch as it whips in the wind

In the vegetarian cafe

A pretty mixed-race boy with a halo of hair, him and an older white woman sit and eat their meals without saying a word to each other. When the woman jokes quietly with the waitress about not having any room for desert the boy shares a glance at her, grins shyly. I had thought they didn't love each other.

Zazen, interrupted

Fatty doesn't know I'm contemplating impermanence. At first he sits patiently and gazes up at me. Next he licks my folded hands. His tongue is warm and raspy. When all else fails he lifts a paw to gently pat my arm - I'm here! Stroke me! This morning my meditation is half paying-attention-to-my-breath, half paying-attention-to-my-cat.

Inside a concrete circle stand a father and his small son. The boy runs around and around his father, receiving his complete attention. Eventually the boy has had his fill, can't help himself, crosses the line of the circle to veer off outwards and away.

a small girl folds at the waist over the railing
yells 'QUACK! QUACK-QUACK-QUACK! QUACK!'

to keep me going until tea-time

half a bowl of salted crisps with ridges

the yellow tulip head falls open, becomes a child's felt-tip drawing of a flower

A loud thump from the road might be a pheasant making it half-way across to the other side.

Girl with flourescent pink slippers

Her hair is pale and straight, hangs like a skirt. Her hood lining's a thin sliver of pink. Flimsy matching flourescent slippers barely cover the cold soles of her bare feet.

She waved from the kitchen window as he drove off. He didn't see her.

Lisa liked my "primroses the colour of distilled Spring dropped into milk".
She sent me her gratitude - today's small stone.

Snowy April day: meet Sally

(thank you for naming her, Erin)

Purple sprouting broccoli

I slid a speck of black in a pot last year
and now I'm standing at this sturdy plant
slicing stems to plunge in boiling water
dot with melting butter and gobble up.

Weather vane

Topping the steeple, such an elegant cockerel - his jet black body an 'S' flipped over and tipped, each of his tail feathers describe a perfect curve.

The rusted orange stains on the pavement reflect the luminous lines of the bike. The air is thick with joss-stick stink.

walking into three banks of smell

the honey-coloured scent of those tattered yellow petals, the pale green waft of freshly cut grass, the tangled blue-grey stink of that man's puffing on his pipe