Notes from a Tree/12

A bud in September (a budding September,

two-thousand and thirteen) –

delicate, yet sturdy

soft, green and furry

tempting

inquisitive

fingertips:

“Touch me.”

The tree

– like the whole garden –

is a riot of vigorous green

like an orchestra

boisterous

clamouring

bursting towards my camera

willing me to capture it.

I try to.

a riot of vigorous green

boisterous, clamouring…

bursting towards my camera

 

I am obsessed with this tree

obsessed with the shapes of its branches

which I photograph from every angle.

the shapes of its branches

And the spaces in between its dancer’s gesturing arms

draw me

like Alice’s looking-glass.

The spaces in between its arms

A Leopard in Love

On Tuesday, September 3rd, 2013, I had a busy time in the tree, watching people, taking photographs, making notes, having Deep Thoughts.

When I climbed down onto the lawn, I sat on the grass for a moment to lick my paws, turned around and – Oh!

I turned around and – Oh!

I think I’m in love.

I think I’m in love

Spotty

Sometimes, on sunnier days, the whole world gets covered in spots.

The grass has spots

The tree has spots

We all have spots

We all have spots

STOP PRESS!

Back after a long absence.  Photographed on Saturday, 1st March, 2014.

Well spotted

“Are you a living work of art?” enquired a man with a stick and a deerstalker, passing below.

“Yes,” I called back: “Well spotted!”

Notes from a Tree/11

On the third of September last year, I found bird poo on my favourite branch of the magnolia tree.  I wondered who had dared to soil my perch: a magpie? One of the parakeets I’d heard cheeping their way across the sky the day before? Probably a pigeon, by the size of it.  I dabbed at it disgustedly with a tissue, before lying on it.  

Probably a pigeon

Later, I sat in a fork of the tree, watching children cartwheeling and taking faltering, upside-down steps on their hands across a patch of lawn not far from me.

I sat in a fork of the tree…

When they ran off, disappearing from view, I heard them calling to one another as they climbed the crooked and bent old laburnum. I growled loudly to deter them, but they didn’t hear me.  I need to practise my growling.