Late spring day

The garden security light comes on. Most nights around this time it flashes for just long enough to give a glimpse of a flea-bitten, scrawny fox scampering across the garden path towards the back of the garage. I hope it doesn’t disturb my vegetable patch during its nightly travels. ‘Does three vegetable plants in the early stages of their development make a vegetable patch?’, I ask myself. Probably not, but it is my latest foray into veggie land as I broaden my horizons. I have grown tomatoes in the past, in the era before Google, when I had no idea what to do with all the surplus tomatoes. The empty garden spaces need filling and I’m slowly working my way through them. The bluebells have taken over the flower borders and I need to let the season pass to see how the new perennials I planted are faring underneath the invasion. My gaze wanders to the pond. There is no sign of the Water Lilly, and the likelihood of it surfacing is getting slimmer with each passing day. The marsh marigold is looking weak and it didn’t take long for the algae to take up residence in the pond. It is after all a pond for wildlife to flourish and was never started as an aesthetic project, I find excuses to comfort myself. The rest of the water plants look like they might just make it. Next to it the creepers are doing a fine job. The clematis is slowly making its way up the trellis and so is the jasmine. I wait for the first buds to appear. The newly added honeysuckle seems happy enough in its new surroundings keeping the two company. The twin solar night lamps flicker on the garden table. 

Night turns to morning and the sunshine promises a better day. I listen to ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’, free on audible for the month. Alexa has kindly found me the title and I get on with my chores as Derek Jacobi reads the story. It’s quite delightful listening to someone else read you a story and I used to enjoy listening to them on my long journey to work in the olden days. There are times when my mind wanders and I miss parts. I actually have the whole volume of the Sherlock Holmes’ mysteries sitting on my shelf, untouched. I get the gist of how the story unfolds but will need to look up the missing parts at some point. One of the squirrel pair is rolling around on the grass with a piece of wood entertaining himself while his friend is keeping himself busy nearby blissfully unaware of his mate’s playful antics. The robin pair are also back foraging for their lunch. They keep their 2 metre distance and pretend they don’t know each other. One of them kept me company as I dug up my vegetable corner a few days back. The fluttering of wings startled me that day, only to find him land close to me. The lure of the worms I had dug up was too tempting for him to resist. I threw a juicy one in his direction, but I don’t think he touched it. He wanted to find them himself. Later in the day as night fell I saw him gingerly trying out the birdbath. He tested the waters before plunging in and giving himself a good soak before flying off to rest his weary wings. I say a silent goodnight to my garden friends. The butterflies are back. The colourful additions in my garden are starting to work their magic. Now I need it to work its magic on me. An uneasiness that I can’t seem to shake off is engulfing me and It needs to go. I look around to find ways to disperse it. One step at a time, I tell myself. It’s ok not to be ok, I remember the words of wisdom I read somewhere and try to find solace in it. 

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