There’s a hollow in the rock wall I made. The rock wall itself is knitted together in such a way there are gaps, nooks and crannies, spaces where the earth and rocks can breathe. A lizard has made its home in one of these; it can stretch out, be safe, peek out, laze in the sun when it wants to. I like that – the gaps, spaces in-between, a lizard making its home in our garden, the plants when they re-seed, the herbs holding their ground even in the driest of summers, and the chilli plants, always, for me, companionable, strengthening, fun to look at, interact.
Always, a place of discovery. And yes, and nearly always something to do, weeds to clear, bird bath to clean and fill, soil to replenish, inclines to re-shape.
I’m more aware of the changing needs of the garden, what feels out of sorts, not quite right, what’s happy.
It’s a dialogue, part of the give and take, the metaphorical, the alarmingly real, a life beyond gesture.