Tuesday, May 04, 2010
reflection, itch, turf
Reflections of the sun in the lake at Groombridge surrounded by branches and the texture of clouds.
Last night, afflicted by an itch in the middle of my back, I take my mind off the problem by trying to remember and spell the French for "itch", with which I have always had difficulty - démangeason. It half comes to me, as I drop off to sleep. In the morning Le Petit Robert confirms my recollection and provides a nice instance of its use by Zola: Cette démangeason de parler qui vide parfois le coeur des gens solitaires, "that irrepressible urge to talk, which sometimes empties the hearts of people who live alone". An observation, which almost makes the original irrepressible urge to scratch worth while.
The curved strip of garden, which bends round our house, following the right-angle bend of the road, consists of a strip of grass, a flower bed and an 8ft hedge which separates us from the pavement. The grass which is too small to be called a lawn and too wide to be called a path, shows signs of wear and tear at this time of year. Worst are the patches under some shrubs where the bed bends round the corner. Some grass seed, which I found at home, left over from a previous year, has failed to germinate. Should I buy some more? Then at Homebase, I spot a roll of turf, a couple of meters long by half a meter wide. It works perfectly to patch the worn grass. What pleases me as much as the instance piece of lawn is the cost. The turf was £3.99. A packet of grass seed on the other hand would have cost £6.00.