deserted, hissing, seed

They are still promising to demolish the abandoned cinema and adjacent shops in the centre of the town. When they do, this mysterious set of stairs leading nowhere, will go too, and with it the boarded up windows, rusty grills, collapsing fire escapes, vents, pipes and gutters, which have been for me so fruitful a source of photographs in the last few years.

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Passing a flower bed, which borders the pavement, I detect a hissing from the undergrowth. It is a buried hosepipe delivering presumably a timed ration of water. So dense are the plants that I cannot see the source of the noise, but splashes appear on the wall behind the bed, so I think I have guessed right, and enjoy the thought of the water welling up on this hot afternoon and the thoughtfulness of the person who set up the device.

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Once on a hillside in Cyprus, I saw a plant with a multicoloured flower which in many respects resembled a nasturtium. On inspection I realized that it was a caper, and remembered that pickled nasturtium seeds are good substitutes for capers. Today, while dead heading a bowl of dark leaved , deep red nasturtiums, I pick a seed and chew it, unpickled, to find that it is has a subtle, peppery taste, not unlike nasturtium leaves and flowers, both of which are used in salads.