This bollard, with its strange markings and expressive cavity is to be found on the roadside between Mount Pleasant and the entrance to Calverley Grounds. If it were a piece of sculpture rather than a neglected parking deterrent, people would come from far away to see it and remark on its human pathos and resonance.
In a flower bed in the front garden of a house in Belgrove, are some red tulips, which, now that their petals have opened and become loose, resemble flames.
Mr Crow, in the Grove, is enjoying the softness of the ground after the rain. Head in the air, he waddles up and down, no longer showing any interest in searching for worms. Instead, it is the pleasure of territory which he enjoys. "Mine, mine mine," he says to himself. And nobody challenges him.
I thought for a moment the bollard was some antique pot, a samian amphora or similar piece of archaeology... such things are endlessly fascinating, and everywhere to be enjoyed, as long as we remember to do so.
I am a bad gardener and attribute this to lack of faith. I pull out a weed and expect unseen forces to re-duplicate it within days. I dig and am discouraged when the sides collapse and fill up my inadequate excavation. I plant something and expect failure. Success fails to compensate for the sense of gloom that anticipates every horticultural task. Plutarch and his blog-respondents seem to take a sunny view of natural phenomena which might – at a stretch – include gardens. Do any of you believe I can be saved?
Truth to tell, Barrett, I share your rather defeated attitude to gardening much of the time... Plutarch and others keep me in somewhat better heart, and persuade me that all will be well, but I often secretly think I'd prefer a window box and a shady/sunny patch of grass and go for walks when I feel the need of further green things to look upon!
I have looked at your profile but find little there, please, reveal a little more of yourself...
Lucy: I'm astonished I have any profile at all. This is the first blog I have responded to and I've been careless about the minutiae. Time to re-trawl the system and start using it properly. A bientot
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