I went down to Parsonage Gardens today to put up a new sign. The Magnolia tree reminded me of our Christmas tree, once it had been stripped of all its decorations. It looked kind of skinny, naked and shivery in the cold. I wanted to throw a big jacket over its shoulders. A very very large jacket.
I’ve never seen a jacket that large, actually.
Someone had taken down my previous sign. Either that, or it had smudged, parted company with itself, perhaps even totally dissolved in the wind and the rain that has shaken and lashed this island in recent times.
I hadn’t been in touch since before Xmas, and wondered if I had been struck off the Old Parsonage’s agenda.
Moribund, I stepped closer to the tree, looking for a suitable site for my new offering – and was instantly cheered to see a determined cluster of snowdrops at its base.
Hope springs eternal, then. Good.
As I gazed up at the tree’s higher reaches, its bony fingers reaching for the sky of bright, cold blue, I spotted the Mystery Shoe. I haven’t written about that yet. See if you can spot it.
In case you can’t, here’s a clue…
And here’s a close up.
More about that later.
I wanted to pin (ouch! -sorry) my new sign to the tree, because that’s what one does with Missing Pussycat signs. But something told me I should seek permission first, so I did, and I haven’t been granted it yet, so watch this space, because I’m going back tomorrow.
And this is my Missing Pussycat sign.
That should do it.