Wood Pigeons & Cherries

iPhone photography: black cherries​

I didn't make it to the Farmer's Market this weekend. I was too busy working on commissions. But I saw wood pigeons in the oak tree outside my windows. I heard the sound of acorns as they hit the ground. I saw the Big Dipper from my kitchen window. I thought of absent friends. Separated by time or place or death. I felt the scent of red sage and enveloped myself in the soft touch of my corduroy jacket. I cried when I listened to Jeff Buckley (it never fails).

I saw a rainbow and made a wish. I ought to have done some laundry and the freezer desperately needs defrosting, but I did none of that. In fact, I struggled to remember meals. Sleep. Instead I thought about the ancient Egyptians and their royal tombs and made sketches for my commissions. The scent of Calamintha brought me to Tuscany. Greek Basil brought me back to Crete. Then I bought two handfuls of cherries and put them in the brown bowl we bought in Barcelona. Travelling in my mind.