Green leaves, the city, and surprises

The first snowdrops are nodding their pretty white heads. Knotted winter aconite buds long to give their petals a good stretch. I peer into clear-as-a-bell snow-melt puddles and marvel at mossy cushions and tiny blades of grass. We can now go for a walk without having to put little crampons on our boots to pierce the slithery ice. The garden is waking after its beauty sleep and I rummage in the shed for summery seeds.

For the most part, my life is spent in the countryside. My body mirrors its quiet rhythms and absorbs its sounds. From time to time I have to go to the city for meetings and gatherings. I went there last week. What struck me most was that I lead a very cushioned life lead out here, in the midst of nature.

After the meeting, I sat on underground train minding my own business. A man, standing at my shoulder, began to repetitively drone out words in a string. “My name is so and so and I’ve no money and I’ve no possessions and I’m hungry and if anyone can help me in any way I’ll be very grateful. My name is so and so.......” I didn’t turn round to look at him. I didn’t see anybody else doing that either. After the fourth or fifth machine delivery he moved on to the next section of the carriage and started all over again. Preconceived ideas welled to the surface. Giving him money didn’t seem like an option. If he had a problem with drink, or drugs, it might only make matters worse. But I wished I’d put the banana I intended to bring with me in my bag. It might have eased his hunger pangs.

While the man stood in the corridor at the carriage intersection in front of me, and repeated his mantra, I gradually became aware of his beautifully blue jeans, his nice warm anorak and the big holdall slung behind his back. The no money-no possessions spiel seemed a bit unreal. All of a sudden the air was filled with the merry sound of an accordion. The music got louder and louder and two people popped into view; the first ploughing her way through the throng of people rising from their seats to alight at the next station. A young bright-eyed woman holding a paper cup out in front of her was followed by a young man squeezing his box. The woman thrust the empty paper carton under my nose and smiled, expectantly. I stared blankly at her. Her smile faded.

Yesterday I found the feathery traces of what must have been a Blue Tit near the bird-table in our garden. It must have succumbed to a marauding cat.
© Sue Glover Frykman