An abundance of plants to identify, some remain without a name that I can give them.
Many man made objects, no longer in their intended use - lie around creating a collage of archeology.
The repetitive cheep of a small common bird imitating the exotic call of the cicada.
A crow yelps and pigeons flap their wings like a clap that punctuates the air.
A spring blackbird harmoniously sings, a wood pigeon cuts through with its distinctive mantra.
My thoughts drift to my domestic practicalities, completely transported to future conversations and mental to do lists.
Brought back here by the rattle shake of the magpie and I refocus on what's before me,
the bleached wood of old buddleia roots and stems stretch out across the hardcore - dug out, hacked down, and abandoned into this wasteland.
More than enough wood to fuel a week of rocket stove cooking.
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