Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Outside my Door - Mansels Road Greerton

Outside the air is still and heavy. The plants are drooping and I put the sprinklers on while I stand here watching and listening. I can’t resist tugging out a few more trails of clover from the earth where I am trying to create an English lawn. It’s irresistible how the long roots intertwine and one gentle tug can release a whole network of clover. I rake the ground over yet again, filling up my wheelbarrow with weeds, leaves and detritus.

The previous owners had a dog, and I am aware of the acrid smell that drifts from the kennel it once inhabited. I have five cats – two of my own, and three I am looking after for my landlord – and I can smell that, too. Beneath the house is a dark, dank cellar where they like to hide, emerging into bright sunshine with cobwebs on their whiskers and dust in their fur.

School holidays and a cacophony of sound. The neighbour’s kids have revived skateboarding up and down the steep driveways, fall off, and weep; complain about turns, and scream; do something right, and yell in triumph. Brothers and sisters bicker and argue as brothers and sisters will, and best friends fall out, make up, fall out and flounce home, flinging secrets and insults on the air.

Someone is burning rubbish – strictly illegal – and someone is smoking a cigar. I imagine the rich man on the deck supervising the work and puffing on a fat Havana while the poor downtrodden peon humbly totes the unwanted bits and pieces down to the end of the garden and strikes a match. Or perhaps its hamburgers on a barbecue uncleaned since it was purchased from The Warehouse on a special offer over three years ago.

Idly I pick off some lavender and rub it between my fingers. I decide to plant the olive tree, and weeding the small area of ground I’ve picked for it discover mint and bergamot, shoofly plants and chives. Delicious. No wonder the cats like to sleep here in the sun. Tomorrow I’ll dust off a deck chair and join them, if the rain holds off.

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