Normal exhausted out of time
Lines on the Landscape
A splurge on the back page Or the back of a dismissive hand
Snowdrops
Tapestries gracing ancestral estates Welcome mats trimming our public park gates
Bird Watching
An eggless raspberry bellied bake Twitcher fuel – Kitchen-side of the glass
Tales from the Rubble Bank
The rubble bank is exactly that: a peculiar, linear, broken brick and excavated, relocated dirt mound at the top of our garden.
St. Pancras to Brick City
Christmas Eve trains track Figures gifting plastic poems Lines of Lego love.
Turning Autumn Leaves
The clocks had already circled backwards when I took shelter in the passageway beside the second hand book shop.
Pumpkat Soup
Pumpkats – Rattertats! Hatterchats? Soupcats!
A Rainy Intermission
In the pursuit of pretty, there are two kinds of gardener who wilfully apportion several weekend evening hours to hosing down their lawn, in a heavy storm, on the darker side of dusk.
Sympathy for the Magpie
A lone reflection for sorrow A life-long mate brings mirth Fledgling foretells a funeral Charming broods a live birth
