sometimes even a few minutes in the garden acts as a reminder to forget thought and simply feel alive to

the many

many textures

to be found in one tiny detail of the big victorian rockery i am working with

the granulations in the big chunk of fossil reef limestone, the smoothness and sudden fissures of the marble, the dry and fibrous ivy roots, the sticky hairiness of foxglove leaves, the impossible softness of the viola petals after a night’s rain, the soft spininess of the succulents, the wet autumn leaves, wet and dehydrated all at once, the thick clumsiness of the silver cinneraria, the fragile lace of the skeleton leaves, the super shiny,  sharp and spiky holly…all the lightest of crusts on the crumbly loam of the newly disturbed soil that’s been a forest floor for a few years, rich with juicy moist worms and shiny centipedes and armourplated dorbugs and tiny pinky-grey slugs fat as piglets from grazing my plantings 😉

lots of treasures found today: a fairy ring of mushrooms on ben’s new lawn, and those fleshy peachy brown toadstools whose name i always forget; lots more skeleton leaves and sycamore pods and richness of richness, broken snail shells by a thrush anvil

these are signs of a thrush i’ve never seen in the garden, and which i think must have extended its territory, because though i’ve kept my eyes open as i’ve weeded and planted before, these are the first cracked shells i’ve found. they had fallen to the right of where i placed them on the ‘anvil’  stone and there are new marks on the sandstone.

it is a very satisfying feeling that as the garden-on-legs, i am making the changes that bring a rare bird back to an urban garden, that even though it is  just off a main road is  a place to feel safe, to feel safely…