The texture of a puddle where a drain is blocked in The Grove. Branches are reflected in the water beneath which the leaves lie as though embalmed.In Mount Pleasant, I pass a basset hound, its nose to the ground. Its long ears trail on the pavement every time its head goes down. I find myself wondering if the fringes of its ears become worn and tattered like the bottom of my trousers sometimes when I forget to hitch them up.
In the hairdressers, I see a girl apprentice combing a long, auburn wig. The wig sits on a plastic head which has been set up for practice on a chair in front of a mirror. I remark on this to my hairdresser friend Chris. He tells me that when he was learning the trade, he once arranged a similar head, complete with a wig on his bed, where it lay on his pillow. He still remembers his grandmother's alarm on encountering the head when she came upon it unexpectedly.
2 comments:
In your photo, it looks as if the leaves might still be on the branches. Good shot!
Good chuckle over Chris' memory of his grandmother.
Yes I think they do get frayed ears!
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