L is my next letter in the alphabet. L for me is Landscaping/gardening, Lee Langley, author, and Living in London.

Landscaping/Gardening are my passion but also my nemesis. There is always more to be done. Last year, the moles wreaked havoc in my garden to the point of craziness. I was angry. I laughed at their audacity. I’ve flooded the holes, poured Moles X, grub killer and finally used hot sauce, which seemed to work. 

  This spring I am replacing plants lost to last winter’s unusual freeze. The roses I am not replacing. They are too expensive nowadays. Some pots will be only annuals from now on. Earlier, the amount of work needed felt insurmountable. But slowly, I am working on removing the dead plants and the irrigation connection, emptying the pots of dirt, remaking bags to hold stones at the bottom for drainage and refilling with a mixture of bought dirt and my compost before planting again. Meanwhile, I work through the garden in sections, deadheading and cutting back. The bees I found in a birdhouse in the Camellia bush were a bit of a setback. I had to wait for them to leave before pruning. What will happen next? But for today, I will forget the garden and begin writing.

BOOKS

I have just finished reading a book by the English author, Lee Langley, Changes of Address. It is a largely autobiographical novel of her young life in Calcutta, India. I have enjoyed it every time I read it, not only because of its subject matter, a child in a mother/daughter relationship and the different needs of each but also for its vivid details of the country, the sights, smells and sounds. I have had this small book on my shelves for half my lifetime; it’s a keeper and one I highly recommend reading.

LIVING IN LONDON – Impressions

I lived in London for just over thirteen years. T26 meters below sea level. These are a few of my images from that time.

Russell Square

Wheeling my bicycle

through the square

Stealing time 

Out of school

The warm sun, 

lighting a grey day.

I watched,

Mothers watching

Children playing tag

Like puppies.

I watched

an old man reading,

Pipe clenched

between his teeth. 

My eyes flickered,

The optic lens clicked, 

Caught

The pigeon’s claw.

The Waterloo underground line is over eighty-five feet below sea level.

Waterloo Line

Have you ever ridden the Waterloo line?

Seen the faces on the old-fashioned train

Felt the tension? 

Gents in black bowler hats,

Newspapers held to their faces,

Furled umbrellas are carefully propped.

Train 

Stops 

Often

Read the posters in red & black & white

Get lost 

in a maze of stairs

or ride the elevators,

eighty-five feet up.

In my last years in London, I sometimes walked the streets late at night when my children were away, returning home in the early morning. This is a poem I wrote on January 1st 1989.

Street Images

Shadows in a doorway

Hide adult business

In long dark overcoats.

An old woman shuffled

by in lilac shoes

Cursing anyone

who came too close.

I pulled my coat tighter.

There was little doubt,

To hesitate would be to despair.

 bright moonlight

Reflected dirty daffodils

On moving traffic

Pearly traders

Set up tables

to hawk their wares.

Startled pigeons

From muddied street

Flew up from beneath my feet.