Unplanned days ~ surprise!
And all day to wander
For sale. But not just now.
From gold mining days.
Morning walks in the sun.
And below the stream is quiet. Until the rain, and the lawnmowers start.
To my mum and dad, thank you.
Affection, encouragement, restraint on near death –
Those experiments we boys must do.
We had everything, everything except money.
Home-made trailer, roof rack, ‘48 Vauxhall, four kids.
Holidays, sunburn, swimming, free fish.
When the money ran out, we came home.
Mum made clothes, darned socks and trousers.
Second hand was new. “It fits!” And Dad knew stuff.
Stuff about nails, thumbs and hammers and helped
Me fix the letter box that Mum didn’t back into.
“Six lamb loin chops please and Dad gets paid on Thursday.”
My Dad survived the war, the song of shrapnel, the fear . . .
until, “Do you notice something different Dear?’
Curtains? Dad’s eyes darting, Hairdo?
“Well?” Us kids knowing, silent smiling, God bless Mum and Dad.
But not alone. Another solitary soul. Walking. Old friendship renewed. News. Depart at a distance and in goodwill.
Thames yesterday. And still standing.
Shops still closed. Reflections recalling yesterday.
Last stop before home. Top of the hill, a sit down.
Morning walks are calculated. April sun appreciated.
Heat pump turned on for the first time today.
After dinner walks not so common now. An earlier walk, then relax with dinner. Sunrise and sunset are more important than stepping out to ‘clocks back an hour’.
After four years I restore my bike. And slowly restore muscles, muscles for some time in ‘idle mode’.
Best view in town
Shortland Cemetery. A number of our visitors including from overseas have found a connection here.
Scenic spots on the back streets of Thames.
Get off the road, you’ll be killed. Lockdown, day 15, first day of our second half.
You never set this stuff when you’re driving.
And walking further.
And my cupboard runneth over. Shops closed for over a week now.
Garden frontages you never see when driving.
A railway once ran behind this tree. Uplifted in 1985.
Pollen St, Thames main street. A new view without the cars.
Before lockdown this end of our main street bustled with side by side stalls along the footpath. People step out onto the road to move along to the next chat spot. Which, even better, slows the traffic.
Saturday market, local produce and gossip.
An edible garden. Herbs and stuff. Planted and maintained by our local people. Good people.
Take, eat, and think of others.
Lots of them. Then I was told they are horse chestnuts.
Chestnuts are edible
I know a song about an old lady who swallowed a horse, so, edible
Horse chestnuts, edible? Or just for old ladies…
David in Pen and Pics