|Almost how the garden looked today|
Mr cuts the grass. I kick my flip flops under the pampas, to keep shady, and walk around the garden with Rabbit. He favours the perimeters; nips off the tips of blackberry shoots that have escaped the brutish mower. My washed hair is drying in the sun, absorbing the rich light. The lawn I admire as manicured. Rabbit has his harness, the red one with the gold bell, and matching lead. Leaky hosepipe sounds like a water feature; a long tumble of water over imaginary marble steps. We require a statue, I say to myself, so that Rabbit and I may take a turn about it, and speak of it later over dinner with dear friends. I shall tell them that I wore the long cotton skirt with the rose print; the darling rose print; and so admired the pastoral composure of the astutely cultivated fields.
|Dog and Rabbit share some shade: taken before the lawn was chopped, one should add|