Friday

Friday was almost hot; 28 degrees, an 'indian summer' day. Late in the afternoon, a flock of silver eyes flew in to feast on the aphids that are covering any soft new growth on the roses. They’re noisy little birds, and kept up a constant trill as they flew back and forwards through the roses, onto the low branches of the tallow and lemon trees, and into the tangle of jasmine on the fence, all the while inspecting every leaf, stem, nook and cranny for potential eats.

I stood and watched them through the kitchen window for a good ten minutes, not only because it’s a pleasure to see them in the garden, but also to keep an eye out for Indi or Bertie. Not that they were anywhere to be seen, it’s just that like all cats, they are both very good at hiding in full view, and with this much noise and goings on, if they were within earshot, I knew they’d be watching too.

The tallow tree that jostles with the lemon for space and sun, is only just showing a hint of its eventual autumn colours. The fruit however have ripened and are starting to crack, exposing the white soft interior that gives this tree it’s other name; 'popcorn tree'. The ‘twenty-eights’ love these tiny morsels, and visit several times a day to eat their fill, sending minor storms of outer shells raining onto the wood shed and paving below. These hard outer casings make a pleasant crunching sound when walked on in winter shoes, but are as hard and unforgiving as oyster shells on bare summer feet.