Got up early this morning and tested my new idea for the garden swap — a simple string stretched across the hall, with wooden pegs for little cards, different colours, cut into long triangles. People can write down what they’ve brought, what they’d like, and let the trades happen gently without fuss.

The cards fluttered when the door opened, as if gossiping among themselves. Stanley called it “organised chaos,” though I thought it looked more like bunting — a celebration of everyone’s odds and ends.

For once, things seemed to breathe instead of pile.

Cards sway on the line,
trades whispered in paper wings—
a hall full of breeze.