The birds must have got tired of describing the barn with their flight because eventually it was 'safe' to go out; i.e. I no longer felt like the knife thrower's glamorous assistant about to be impaled by a beak at any moment.
So out I went. There was more digging to do - and this spring I've dug for England - in order to plant the last 5 yew trees. The rain held off and one by one the trees got planted. They form part of the boundary of a small piece of land (about 17 x 10m) the design of which is as yet undecided. But I give it quite a lot of thought as I cut my way through clay, creeping buttercup and builders' (bless 'em ) rubble whilst digging. I ponder lawn versus gravel, formal versus informal. I glance over my shoulder at the cow-shed-dutch-barn-next-door and conclude that whatever, it's all going to be considered a bit whacky in these parts anyway. I favour either a sculpture garden or a maze.......both have equal attractions.
The maze idea appeals - follow a path, however small, to a destination; which could be a mirror or a pool of still water in which would be reflected the skyscape or one's face. A metaphysical whatever. Sky, eternity, self. Self, eternity, sky. I like the idea of a shallow dish of still water except the dogs would drink from it.........
Sculpture would need to be big and bold. Prissy need not apply.
In the meantime I continue to dig and think. Tomorrow I get a day off as Lesley and I have tickets to see Il Divo at the NEC in Birmingham. More of that anon.