Words On Wondering
The sun appears, edging back from retirement. It has been days of rain. Is that wind that stirs the washing trusted on the line or is it sighs of relief?
Both, let’s say.
The air seems warmer, the mud all soft.
Hot enough to get seeding in the polytunnel: tomatoes, basil, chillies, peppers, radish, carrots, pumpkin, cucumber, aubergine. Seeds flake-like, spear-shape, spherical, familiar.
Meanwhile we are asking questions over a piece of land, to see if we can make a connection between where we are and where we should like to be.
I have repotted the lime tree, and the red palms, knowing they are getting harder to move, hoping this works like ironic magic bringing us closer to the place where they can be planted in our own ground.
Clouds roll thick in the sky.
For now the magic is knowing that possibility exists.
Later we may settle for another story, another possibility; preparations help propagation but there are variables we cannot influence.