Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Honesty box, praise and pottering.

1. The gate of the corner house is propped open by a table of tomato plants and an honesty box.

2. The waitress says that our four babies were better behaved than the child at the next table.

3. The baby has gone to sleep. The husband is watching a ball game. The rain has stopped. It's still light. I spend 40 minutes pottering with a pair of secateurs and a rubbish bag, cutting back unruly wisteria and weeding the gravel in the front garden and tidying up scattered pots round the back.

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