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a small Yorkshire garden
Wednesday 31 October 2007
Morning, and the sky is bright blue, with wind-blown clouds.
High above me, a thin beech tree leaf is moving on the breeze, sunlit orange against the blue. It has come some distance - there are no beech trees nearby.
I watch to see if it will land here in the garden, but the wind carries it across the other side of the street.
On the ground here, among the fallen leaves, a bird so sleek and black, with his bright beak, feasts on an apple.
Heaps of discarded plantpots by the shed, other plantpots lined up, filled with bulbs. Leaves, leaves everywhere. And two patches of true red, from late dahlias.
A mild morning. A bulb-planting morning. Perhaps a morning for sweeping up leaves, or perhaps a morning for letting them be, as they blanket the ground all yellow and brown.
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