Aaah, the smell of freshly cut grass, damp leaves and loamy earth, cool dew and early morning shadows. This is the view from my bedroom window this morning.
The wisteria is out in full bloom, as is the large lilac tree, and there are tiny grapes growing on the vine around the kitchen window. The little crooked playhouse has been moved from the dark leafy part of the garden to where the rabbit run used to be. The rabbit has long since escaped and run away.
I walk slowly around the garden, surprised at how green everything is. I glance at the swingset adn wonder whether Skye managed to get to school in time this morning. I look at the shadows on the lawn underneath the lilac tree and remember how my brother used to love stretching out on the grass there to doze in the dappled sunlight.
I walk over to the patio, dominated by a fig tree that although fully grown, never bore fruit until I moved to Italy. Now, in early May this tree has bigger figs on it than some of the trees in Positano. Looking at the patio reminds me of the many summer barbeques that we used to have. Potato salads, chicken legs, ribs, corn on the cob with melted butter, slightly burned. Never ending bottles of wine and small bottles of french beer, bought on a daytrip to France in the hypermarket in Calais.
A cool breeze stirs up a small pile of fallen leaves and sends a shiver through me. It's only 8am and still quite cool outside. I head back into the house, throgh the kitchen door where the reassuring aroma of toast lingers and the sunlight reaches through the windows.