18.3.2013 – lavender splinters
In the centre of my palm on my left hand. A shard of last years lavender punctured my cold hand.
That’s not a surprise, I’ve always had soft hands, “girls hands” “never seen a days work ” hands.
Sitting on the cold slab of the second step to my house I go about removing the fragrant thorn. It’s good to be outside. The temperature eased to just make a bit of pottering possible.
I’m reminded that tending any plot of land no matter how small or unremarkable is good for the soul.
Cutting back last years dead feels cleansing. Even the rumbling exhausts don’t bother me as they are soon replaced by the arching clap of wood pigeons and birdsong. Sipping tea on the step and taking in the ice blue sky.
The splinter hurts and brings me back.
Cold blue sky’s full of potential and an increase in pressure. Some turbulence and periods of light rage.