Three Beautiful Things

1. Bees -- bright bumble and work-a-day honey -- are nosing into the wisteria flowers. 2. The mist of oils that comes off the lemon I am zesting into coleslaw for supper. 3. The flares of orange reflecting off windows on Broadwater Down catch my eye, and not long after the sky to the west is streaked and striated.

1. There is a lot of sensory joy in the veg box -- the thud of radishes bobbing in the washing bowl; ripping scruffy husks from corn cobs; slicing carrots and cucumbers into sticks for the salad box; squeezing cooked baby beetroots out of their skins. 2. Pete brings his own homemade Monopoly set and it's a stunner -- unique, handcrafted and thoughtfully built to a Le Mans theme with the finest artwork early 2000s clipart CDs can offer. It's very nostalgic, and with his own added context, much more interesting than some of the official sets we've been playing. 3. A sky engine noise catches my attention during the game and I'm on my feet to look outside before I know what I'm doing. It's a paraglider, and with the yellow-gold moon rising, it seems reasonable to agree with Tim that it's probably a Jules Verne character off on a lunar adventure.

1. Just as we pour coffee, my brother, newly landed, taps at the door. 2. Rather shy, he appears by my desk in his new school suit.  3. On the top of the crumble, a glossy patch of leaking blackberry juice.

1. Slicing corn off a cob is very satisfying. 2. A neighbour asks if I heard the rain last night -- I missed it, but the air and the light are different now. 3. We watch Ann Droid and laugh with no reservations at all, because we think we know these people, and the themes of family duty and usefulness matter to us.

1. A flock of sparrows is having a stand-up row somewhere beyond our back wall. 2. The fridge, I see, is full of chocolate crispy nests, each with a clutch of two or three mini eggs. 3. There is a piece of crackling to snip up and crunch on. Nick is very pleased with the pork shoulder he has roasted for tacos.

1. Her little smile as the hairdresser comes round with the mirror -- that alone is worth the cost of the haircut. 2. Warm evening -- streets and pub gardens are full of A-level students processing results day. 3. I join another gathering to read aloud The Earth Charter -- this time a mix of campaigners and poets in a pub, all with different ideas about how a public event might work. We read it, and then it's time to talk about taking it to a wider audience. They comment self-consciously that they are  mostly middle-aged white men, and the discussion is robust with a fair amount of interrupting and apologising for interrupting. I dive right in, because talking about the charter feels as good as reading it and internalising it.