This shot I just uploaded is of my treasured old piece of shed roof, best seen against a deep blue sky beneath the twittering of birdsong in a hedge rather than on a computer screen. However, I have finally given it a thin layer of varnish in the hope that I can enjoy looking across the room at it for a few more months before the blooms of lichen flake away. By that time, I assume a new colony will have taken hold on the pristine new roof. Right now, the new roof reminds me of an empty airfield, looking up at the sky, waiting.
Last month, possessed by a story that needed to be written, my notebook led me to the park each day to spend my writing time sitting on an old gravestone covered in lichen. It also meant I was visited by every curious dog in the neighbourhood. My favourite was a Scottie dog with wonderful dark eyes and a lovely beard who came and sat by me every day as I scribbled away. He was a fabulous writing buddy. His owner did more walking than he did on those days and the dog had to be called many times over to go home instead of staying beside me. He had a smiling mongrel friend whose crazy paw prints run over several of my pages. This dog was a small force of Nature who couldn't help running over everything in sight, including me and my words.
Floods of different sorts seemed to converge on that spot, the bounding joy of the dog, the words running from my pen and the slow progress of the lichen across the stone.