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rainy evening garden

by Simon Aulman

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rainy evening garden 01:58:50
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I love my tiny city garden a million times more than I ever loved my huge beautiful country garden. The only time I ever touch it is when I walk to the other end and grab one end of the coiled washing-line and bring it to the back wall here and stretch it out and then walk out again to hang the washing and sometimes it is four days later before I walk out again and collect the dry-ish washing.

Friends pull faces when they hear that my washing can be out in what is apparently very dirty rain and stuff - but I ask them Do I Smell ? and they honestly say I don't. For some reason, the only time I ever interfere with what is going on in my garden is about twice a year when I do put the kybosh on a few dock plants and it is also a rural hang-up that I try not to have too many ragworts - I think I had about six last year - that's my max. Everything else just fights among themselves.

So far this year I've had blues in my garden - can this even be possible ? - I sometimes think I must've been dreaming. They're about the only butterflies I have seen this year so far. Lots of other insects though - the garden does literally make a noise during the day, the buzzings. I was originally going to call this album The Last Great Wlderness - which is not just the title of one of my favourite films, but of course it is also a description of my garden and all the gardens in the cities where things are left alone. At the moment I can honestly say that the leaving-alone is by design.

But my brain fog and my habit of falling over and my love of drink and my dislike of doing boring things and lots of other things too, they tell me that soon I won't be able to do anything in my garden - I'm determined to stay out of the care system for as long as possible, and then longer still, and all the way up until I die. Indoors, sofas are all I have, and I sit on any one and look out at my garden - with the windows open a crack and the prevailing wind blowing towards me I kid myself that the good pure gases that all the weeds exhale are wafted into my house and into me and displace the urban fumes everywhere here.

When I saw the blues this spring and the marbled whites last summer here I knew that I was seeing friends from my long walks - when I stop at quiet humming corners of the odd field maybe once a month and scoop up random grasses and stuff them into a pillowcase and into my little rucksack and when I get back home I just tip the tangle onto the grasses here and things that are eggs will hatch or find root and feed one another.

recorded today, photo literally about ten minutes ago

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released April 27, 2024

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