1. Across the lawn, a couple settle into their folding garden chairs.. Glory to the Sun! He has white hair. She has Vertigo, seldom ventures out, and always needs to be helped. Why do they sit on a perilous slope on the lawn, I wonder?
*
2. Spring! Sprung! Startling Surprises!
Yesterday, our little trees, sported amazingly promising healthy green shoots.
Today, the shoots are many inches long, each with a bloom!
Some say they respond to the sun .. I believe they have a secret agenda, working through the night.
I know they will now, astonish, and gloat, as they forge rapidly upwards...
Then one day, our little tree will be heavy with apples, falling...
They’ll laugh at us...
Beneath those trees, rings of daffodils are gleefully yellow in the sun.
A cheeky breeze causes them to wave.
They have loved the bursts of warmth and light, to show off, in these recent days. But one or two are bending, giving way, on this, yet another day of focused warmer sunlight...
Inside, my tiny daffs, in a basket, in the window, can’t compete.
Today, they are papery, incomplete.
*
3. Two fat pigeons sweep in flight, together, downwards, aiming directly for the rim of the birdbath.
At the ultimate moment of landing, one turns his head, towards the other, maybe warning? ...so that the other pigeon deflects immediately and deliberately straight to the ground below, to peck ‘ inconsequentially’.
What really persuaded him to make that instant, albeit safe, decision?
The first fat pigeon lavishly draws water up into his beak, splashes with his head and wings, and having happily reduced the shallow level of water, rests on the rim, preens, and is satisfied.
We mortals will obligingly top up the water each day, and more.
*
4. I am outside. I will place my filled bags in the appropriate bins, today.
A young woman with a face mask waves cheerfully from outside another entrance. Between suddenly recognising her voice and shape, I notice, fleetingly, that among the shopping bags she has deposited on the ground for delivery, there is a large, prettily decorated gift package for Easter. There is happy exchange, and some incoherent words, as her elderly recipient appears at the doorframe to collect her bags.
The young woman kindly offers me help if needed, as she hurries away to her large family and well-known endless commitments.
*
5. The Thursday evening Clap: I hurry to join self-isolated friends, ‘distancing’ ourselves as we lean against the stone wall which separates us from the main road outside. We all clap and exchange smiles enthusiastically, at the appointed moment, in shared understanding of the implications. Residents have emerged from their homes and little gates, across, and down the road. We wave energetically at each other.
A tall, thin man suddenly darts indoors, and returns armed with a large round banjo. He strums loudly, a sort of repetitive jig, which turns our clapping into a rhythmic pattern, and feet loosen up, too.
Finally, as everyone vanishes again into the privacy of their isolation, I decide to take a stroll around the block, under a light, moonlit sky, with streetlights, in a refreshing, clean coolness.
Full circle, I am walking back past the house with the banjo man.
Then It is with great surprise, that for the first time, I see his glass topped front door, lit from behind, glowing from its portico shadows.
It has is a beautiful floral, elegant, stylishly sweeping design in stained-glass, for wonder, and I carry the inspired vision home with me.
(Noted: The evenings of clapping comraderi, one purpose, are opening up a new, shared consciousness which may hold.. ?)
Pauline Battigelli studied Art and has lived in Zimbabwe, Italy, and now Oxford.
