I propelled myself out of bed early this morning and into the garden. Still sleepy feet and hands poking around. When I want it to, my big toe can function as a spade.
Exploring. Smiling at all the bright flashes of petal and leaf. If you look closely you'll see telltale signs of industry in the front yard. Plastic covers, trampled down grass, muddy patches.
Heavy equipment chained to trees.
Tools neatly resting in trenches. The gophers did not leave them there! They have other methods for digging. Many of which I am familiar. Oh no, these holes were dug by humans.
Humans. With wheelbarrows! Working hard to transform my back patio courtyard into an outdoor room. A pipe dream coming to life.
Buck is not displeased with the new king-sized cat box.
In the last few days the cockles of my heart were warmed by your kind emails and comments. Thank you. Again.
And now a passage from The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Yes. I can unashamedly confess to being the world's slowest reader. You try reading a page a day and see how far you get. My enjoyment however is not one bit lessened by my snail's pace.
Those who feel inspired, as I do, by the greatness of small things will pursue them to the very heart of the inessential. Where, cloaked in everyday attire, this greatness will emerge from within a certain ordering of ordinary things. From the certainty that all is as it should be, the conviction that it is fine this way.
There they go again, those words. Lining up in a certain way and making me go, "Ohhhhhhhh." Books. They are good.