Once more, I'm not out walking. It's only a short while till I start teaching and in all honesty I miss the family of Egyptian geese who set up home at the pond last year. The ducks aren't the same: they seem silly in comparison, and the longer walks will take too long before I start work. So it's in my head, in my head, plodding through the mud, there and back to nowhere again.
In a few minutes I'll go out and look at the collapsed back yard. Most of the plant pots are sitting in a sea of sheared-off terracotta, having freeze-thawed their way into destruction. The waterlogged Bay tree that I've carefully nurtured into a pom pom on a stick is probably going to die. The Arum Lilies look like piles of wet lettuce and the geraniums look like appalled old gentlemen in ragged brown coats. Everything looks soggy and tired.
I was going to say I feel like that's a description of me, but actually I wrote a weird song yesterday that's been circling around in my head all night, not because it's catchy but because it's weird. I sing 'Ahhhh' a lot because it helps to sigh, sometimes. It's a frightening song. How strange to write a song that frightens yourself. If I keep singing it, I might get used to it and scare it away.
Right, that's it! Off out there in the wetness to damage limitate.