Getting close to solstice now, and because of the stretching shadows making eggs of the rounds I count them and note the barrier holds thirteen discs – all the moons of a year
The hazard tape is a festive cordon around a work in progress. The concrete square anticipates the arrival of the industrial sized litter bin that will arrive in due course, we have seen their lumpen forms elsewhere
The bins speak of volumes and of incarceration, they are forbidding monuments however you look at them, the hand traps and spy holes and the mottled surface acting as a diffuser of recognisable reflected features, its going to take a while to get accustomed to these stern interlopers.
Buried things emerge out of the strimmed borders, the curve of a concrete form conjuring and teasing the old mill stones, mosses growing circular in the bark of the swamp cypresses, what at first looks like another abandoned bike I see has partners who are cliff climbing. The Rosebay Willow is slowly emerging and a seven spotted ladybird reaches for the sky, the gorse is in its gothic phase this year.