Grit in the Gears

I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.

Thursday 25 July 2013

Steam in the Archives

Garden Pictures from an Old Industrial Space.

The Mended Planter

A rocky oasis.

The butterflies... There were about ten, but they were shy, every time I approached, they'd flutter to another planter. They're Small Tortoiseshells, we get a lot of them, I find them in the attic in wintertime, woken, re-animated by the odd day of sun, fluttering against the windows, when they really need to sleep until the flowers are in bloom again.

Remember the demolition video? This is what we were planning, when replacing the old wooden steps.

My Lunch-Break corner, I watch the bees harvesting from the lavender, and the butterflies fluttering by.