A Gesture Of Faith And Fox

In Southampton, there is a brand new car. A mid-spec economical white because that’s the least expensive colour car…
It is waiting for paperwork. Just routine paperwork. Finance is approved.
What will happen?
Life will be buzzed with a paintwork gleam, though it’s the same life; this is good, we are grand fans of our lives here.
The financial commitment makes us scared, this is not a change. Money worries pelt us with such consistency, we should have learned to dodge by now. But we’ve compromised: we have become bold.
A few more bits of paper will move and make the car get on a truck, to be brought to us.
We will go to the garage and drive it away.
A gesture of faith in ourselves?
Yes, we say. Yes.

Meanwhile the garden grows. We toil to help it; dig holes, fill holes, fit raised beds.
Hand feed our seedlings.
The picnic table drops into weathered pieces. We sit at particular angles to keep safe, bowls of rice steaming, birds flinging in bursts of food finding, territorial dispute; flowers shaking petal heads, bees drink like kissing.
Meadowsweet leaves thicken, Cow Parsley begins to seed.
Evening air has a humidity that swells open these hedgerow scents.

At night the foxes yip: Dog perks at it.

The day we went to view new cars we had walked in a field. I was picking a feather bouquet; pheasant and pigeon, hands full, mind calming. Unprepared for the view of Dog playing with two fox cubs. It explained the abundance of feathers. My stumbling in broke up the play, for which I was sorry, but such a thing to witness: a blessing.

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