Pay and Display
9th April 2012
The pink cherry blossom defies the steely grey skies and makes the car park festive. It’s as if the cars and the trees are lining up for a bizarre dance before the rain slants down in metal rods.
15th April 2012
No traffic sound; no-one shouting into a mobile; no clattering saucepans; no-one calling their cat; no-one playing Whitney Houston. Dusk: the pewter clouds from the north darkening the evening into this moment of silence. Then, from the conifers against the chalk-blue sky to the south comes the melodic song of a lone blackbird: aching with spring beauty; clear and pure and poignant. And when the song stops, the silence seems eternal and when the song starts again it fills the world.
16th April 2012
Immobilised by the sun: equidistant pigeons silhouetted on the apex of a steep roof this blue-bright afternoon. A synchronised takeoff and the waft of their wings as they swerve over the sandwich-eaters on the square, then back across the blue-reflecting slate to their vigil between the chimneys.
*Also known as Rose Bay Willow Herb, the prolific wild flower called Fireweed, five feet tall with spikes of magenta flowers, cheers the hearts of those whose cityscape has become a bomb site or whose buildings have been cleared by machine. The dormant seeds spring to life after destructive events such as forest or man-made fires, hence the name, Fireweed. This occasional column will celebrate the persistence of wildlife in urban conditions.
Fireweed 1 - St John’s
Gardens & Springing to Life
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