A mirror is left in the forecourt of a house. It surprises the world with its reflection.
The sound of sawing on the other side of a wall, this morning, tells me that my friend Milo is in his garden and still at work on his dingy.
The smell of leeks, freshly lifted from the garden, trimmed and quickly washed. They will form the basis of a leek and potato soup, perfumed with ceps.