A trimmed copper beech coming into leaf in one of the gardens behind the allotments. Gooseberry bushes in the foreground. I liked the glimpse of roof beyond and the curl of ironwork on the gate. I also liked the twisted wires, brightly crossing the shadows. I once had an infant teacher who used to draw coastal outlines on the blackboard with her shaky hand. I loved the way the wobbly outlines gave a truth to the uncertainty of shore and boundary. And I remember her taking pride in how she turned her affliction to advantage. She was an uncrossable, wonderfully spirited role-model. I was lucky. This is for her. We owe so much to each other - in ways known and unknown. I sense my debt to my old teacher in appreciating the glorious irregularity of allotments. Very few straight lines in sight. |