He said that his occluded eye had improved, more than he could’ve hoped, apparently. Isn’t that an amazing thing? He seems rather sanguine about it. But to me it is a sign of a healthy constitution. It is still fuzzy but he says that he can make out more shapes.

We talked of her garden and the impact of the recent rain and wind. She seemed distracted having just come in from a wet walk. I could hear the dog barking outside. The storms have destroyed their runner beans and the courgettes that ‘were coming beautiful’ have begun to rot. I couldn’t lift her. I’m in a muddle today, she said. Sometimes I can’t make it right. I wish I could. I worry about sharing snippets of our conversations here on this page. I keep her anonymous and it is only a way of celebrating her. For I do. That soft lyricism of her voice and her concerns spoken so quietly, continue to move me. She has been nowhere since the lockdown was first imposed. Let this sharing be alright. I would never wish to wound.

A wild morning but he has gone out nevertheless. Has summer ended?

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.