It’s a bright nearly -summer morning . Today I don’t feel bright or summery. Feels like one of those days when one needs to go back to bed and get out again , the other side !

Warnings are slight , but unmistakable : I tripped over a leg rope in the corridor first thing returning from beach swim ( which WAS bright and near summery and a joy); I walked into a table; I nearly tripped on our steep stairs while rushing down unthinking and immediately stumbled over the cushion lying randomly on the floor. Really slight warnings . Díaz was woken from his short doze because I had to open the door to a workman, then I couldn’t find the car keys so he could move the car.

Outside to start on a walk with the now winging Díaz, I am expiring in a woolly sweater on a 20 degree day and no breeze . Forgotten sun cream for both of us and he’s going red already. And not nodding off because he’s too hot, so my coffee is not imminent.

After this catalogue of minor mishaps, we reach a small street on the way to the coffee shop. How can I continue in disgruntlement as we slowly make our way down this colourful street with its very individual streetscape .

Right on the corner is a long, striped, wooden bench tied to the back of a vehicle.The colours are like a golden-rainbow sun: medley of yellow, orange and faint darker lines etched into the wood. It is wood, but I can’t make out what kind.


A carved wooden bench , being moved or about to be placed in a garden or street ?

This is just a beginning .Bright totem like structures stand in many front yards or on verges.

And this house with objects d’art hanging from verandah

But this is not all. There are some quite odd objects alongside. Of course odd/ beautiful depends on your own aesthetic and I thought these art works odd and interesting, juxtaposed alongside spring flowers and budding trees .

How wonderful is this day. In the space of half an hour my spirits have lifted and Díaz has fallen asleep so am right for a quiet coffee. We have reached the end of the street . I peer into someone’s backyard through a wrought iron gate: a nearly magic garden. Díaz dreams on.

The almost magic garden
Díaz Dreaming