agapanthus, cricket, proseco

The next stage. A few days ago, this calyx was closed. Now it splits open to reveal its inner inflorescence, the individual flowers of which have yet to open. Today we counted 19 such flowering events happening or about to happen on the one plant.For the last two years it didn't flower at all, because I did not, as I should have done and now have done, feed it, and feed it generously.

On the Common, the sounds of cricket. In the distance, beyond some rough grass, on the other side of the perimeter fence, is the cricket ground where figures clad in white are scattered over the outfield and in position on the pitch. There is some lazy clapping, then a pause as the bowler sends down another ball. Then an explosive appeal, a chorus of howzats? - the loudest noise in the game of cricket. More clapping and someone says "well done!" The sun is shining. It is 4 oclock on a Saturday afternoon in July. In the pavillion, there will be the smell of tea brewing and stacks of sandwiches. All's well with the world, at least within a radius of about a quarter of a mile.

In the Pantiles outside the Italian deli, a glass of proseco in the first sunshine for days.