Friday, July 04, 2025

Artificial silk, phone call and aphelion.

1. To drift around in leggings and a very loose top made from polyester silk.

2. A quick catch-up on the phone adds some healthy texture to this day of frantic typing.

3. My alarm goes off reminding me about an astronomical happening: the sun is at aphelion. We can't observe it; it's after sunset, and anyway, distance from the sun is not perceptible by tiny folks like us standing on the planet's surface (we're interested in the celestial goings-on, but not interested enough to take measurements six months apart and spoil our eyes looking directly at the sun). But it's nice to know the moment, anyway.

Thursday, July 03, 2025

Magnolia, pagoda and station.



1. Late magnolias -- always a pleasure.

2. We like everything about the pagoda -- including the long climb to the top -- but particularly the green and gold dragons on the roofs and the automata models on the ground floor. We turn handles to bring models made from pieces of tin tea caddies to jerky tick-tock life, depicting the trip to Guangzhou that inspired the architect, and the building of the pagoda.

3. A parade of shops and cafes, shaded by London Planes, crowds around Kew Gardens Station, curious and a little deferential.


Wednesday, July 02, 2025

Book, volunteers and shower.

1. I spot that he's brought along the copy of Puck of Pook's Hill that I left in his room a month or so ago. 

2. Everywhere, there are ladies in yellow T-shirt emblazoned with 'Here to help'.

3. Late at night, as the air cools, the patter of rain -- just a few drops, but there's always the promise of more.

Tuesday, July 01, 2025

Watering cans, eating alone and settling down.

1. The grounding weight of my watering cans.

2. Our schedules mean that I eat supper alone in the peaceable, silent kitchen.

3. Now the children have gone to bed and it's darker and a little cooler, I can focus on writing one of the four articles I should have completed today.

Monday, June 30, 2025

Going away, sweet peas and calls.

1. Waving off the last of our sleepover guests. Now we are free to be tired and grumpy.

2. A bunch of sweet peas -- bright stained glass colours -- tucked in among our packing.

3. The wheezy calls of the baby seagulls nesting in a chimney stack the next street over; and the swifts shrieking overhead.

Friday, June 27, 2025

Shower, after supper and leave it.

1. Overnight shower has dampened the parched garden, left drops on the washing line and cooled the air.

2. Now we're sitting in the garden (we've left the supper table uncleared in the kitchen) I'm glad that I gave into an impulse and rolled a couple of tinned cocktails into my M&S basket.

3. I note in on my list and leave it alone for tomorrow.

Thursday, June 26, 2025

Pied, open door and day's work.

1. My walk in the woods today is pied and dappled and splashed with light and shadow.

2. On a day when it's too hot and bright in full sun, to sit by an open door in vast, cool room.

3. When I am called for supper, my tracker shows me just how much work I have done today, and it feels like enough.

Artificial silk, phone call and aphelion.

1. To drift around in leggings and a very loose top made from polyester silk. 2. A quick catch-up on the phone adds some healthy texture to ...