29th August – Bindweed Thinking

I tugged at bindweed this morning, only to find it wound three hedges deep, holding fast to everything in sight. It made me think of our garden swap — each new offer wrapping around another. Yesterday’s thought of involving the charity shop hasn’t left me. Today, I caught myself picturing the shelves lined with our odds and ends: wobbling chairs, teapots without lids, orphaned cuttings in jam jars.

Perhaps that’s the answer. Just one place where things flow in and out as needed. I almost said as much to Stanley at the post office, but he was deep in conversation with Mr. Tibbins about fishing rights.

Another time.