There were just four initially, a satisfying row of black flower pots lined up against their garage wall but this morning there are now ten. The original four have green leaves already climbing up the stakes. Fresh tomatoes. I love that smell, a smell of warm greenness usually associated with greenhouses made steamy in the summer heat. They belong to the woman preacher and her husband who cannot help but be inspired (if that is the right word) to grow things living next door, as they do, to Mr Lawnmower Man and his pretty, diminuitive, black-bobbed wife who spend most of their time in their garden adding more pots and plants and trees and soaking in the sun. It’s another world over there compared to that lived by us flat dwellers.
The great blousy red Mexican poppies in one of the gardens at the end of Llanbadarn Road have flowered again this year, and they are, sadly, already on the turn shedding their red, crepe-like petals along the pavement. The juxtaposition of the red against the deep black of their seeds heads is spectacular.
I often hear radios through high-up open windows as I walk through town in the early mornings. They are disjointed voices mostly, not music. Insomniacs, no doubt, needing company.
Oh and the blue light of morning is here now. I love this time of the year, the black of night lifts earlier and I walk home in the almost daylight.
I dreamt heavily last night. Someone was letting me live in their house in the country. And then later a man, an owner of a cafe was telling me he could find a home for me whenever I needed one. He handed me his card and then began to show me photographs of his tribe and the blue and white garments they wore. He called me a lady. Then I was boarding a plane that had touched down. It was a huge but dark inner space, rather like one of those military planes the RAF etc. parachute out of. It was full of students and lecturers. I recognised one of the lecturers and even remembered his name, James Mason. They’d touched down so that students could grab a coffee. I felt a little shy entering the craft and made a joke about the worst thing about a full plane was trying to find a seat. Everyone laughed. They were kind dreams, and warm and hopeful.
