inventory

I like to stroll around my little patch of garden in the early morning, to see what has changed overnight. There is usually some development that brings a frisson of excitement, and a smile to my lips. This morning I notice that the Hollyhocks have fat flower buds forming, and the Hebe and the Lavender both have a flush of colour on their stems but are a couple of days away from the full pinks and mauves of summer flowering.

Similarly, I like to take stock of the birds and wildlife I see as I head out of the garden on my morning walk, around the local streets and down to the seafront. A darting quick sparrow today, and a brace of squirrels - or perhaps they're only referred to as a brace when they've been bagged by a gamekeeper. A strutting magpie comes close to the bench where I sit in the shade for a while, out of the heat that is already building towards the midday furnace that's been forecast. One upside of the heat and sunshine is that it brings out the lizards to bask on the rocks, on the tree lined footpath that leads down to the promenade. This morning I see just the one, the first I've seen this year, which gives the lie to its name of Common Lizard, and the brilliant green speckles across its head and back also contradict that name, as it is an uncommonly beautiful creature. Also, of note today, I see a couple of massive Great Danes, being walked by their owners. One black dog, one brown one and both very docile as they loped along at heel. It struck me that it's really uncommon to see such large animals outside of a farm or zoo, and it be perfectly acceptable to society. Monsters live among us, I thought, always keen to imagine a scenario where suddenly such animals might revert to their wild nature. And yes I'm aware that 'massive Great Danes' is a tautology, but they were huge and deserved the additional noun. I've seen smaller ponies.

Taking a left through the park I'm happy to see the local bowls club are playing, decked out in the brilliant whites of their tribe, with some of their number looking like a Beryl Cook painting come to life. No one is playing on the putting greens though, perhaps because it's Sunday and no one is working in the office where you pay our money and collect your club and ball. But because the greens are devoid of humans the local Jackdaw collective is rootling around in the rough between the manicured greens, looking for grubs or perhaps the odd lost ball.

Into the home-straight and I notice a new addition to the neighbourhood. Someone has erected a wonderful community library box in their front garden. It's beautifully constructed, painted a lovely sympathetic green, and has a smart silver door knob. I love the idea of these small spaces - phone boxes, tree hollows, upturned milk crates - that thoughtful, book loving locals turn into lending libraries for their neighbours. 

I'm happy with all that I saw, and inventoried, on my walk today. Some things are almost a constant; the Jackdaws, and gulls of course, which I didn't mention, and the bowls players too. And I'm happy with the familiar, the common sightings. But other things change on a regular basis, or are fleeting sights. Those hollyhocks will move from bud to bloom any day, the lavender will flower and then go over, and it's always a challenge to catch sight of a lizard, which makes them very special. And then something new in the form of the library box that will become a regular sight, though the books, of course, will likely change often.

Photo is the author's own (and I will take a better one soon, one that isn't marred by my reflection)