We will walk home through the woods, the skeletons of fallen leaves sticking to the shape of our wet feet, listening to the sounds of the life all around us. Watching birds fly from tree to tree. Bees buzzing in the myrtle blossom. A lizard, alert to our presence, scuttle away into the undergrowth. Back now in our food forest. Dappled light dancing across Alba’s long hair as she crouches by a large fallen log, peering at a gathering of shiitake mushrooms, imagining the thoughts of the thousands of tiny insects that busily move about the mushroom caps. And then we reach our garden. Alive with colour and growth. A rainbow patch of chard speckled green with kale. Passionfruit wildly climbing the side of your writing cabin, brilliant white and purple flowers like a psychedelic vision. A huge patch of strawberries around Alba’s bean teepee. The next two years worth of lentils and chickpeas growing in the corner. And then we are home.
Posted on: Sun, 06 Apr 2014 00:51:34 +0000
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