Camelia, discarded stuff, hoody

A camelia bud shows it pink tip in a front garden. It's like a piece of lipstick.

Someone has moved from a house by the Grove. A collection of detritus - chairs, a small table, a laundry basket, pieces of timber - invite gleaners. And sure enough bit by bit the pile is reduced, and you seeone or two people bearing off the trophies.

I see a hoody walking a dog. At first, with the light behind him, it looks as though the wearer has no face. Not so much sinister, as reminiscent of an illustration of a mediaeval monk. But the dog somehow brings it back to the present, and removes the hoody, too, from its association with mugging.