Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Mulch, scooter and dad.

1. Wisteria petals have fallen on one of my pots and dried crisp (we've had no proper rain for weeks). The purple has faded to sad indigo. I brush them off. Another layer, half rotted, comes off in a slab. Underneath green seed leaves have pressed out of the still damp soil.

2. A little girl wafts past me on her scooter. Her mother trots past, carrying a Miffy bag and a tiny coat. Further up the street I pass the mother standing still, holding the scooter. The little girl is crouched in front of an estate agents' -- she's counting plastic ducks in the window.

3. There's a cry while I'm eating. Nick goes up. He comes down a little while later -- alone. "He just wanted a finger to suck."