It's in the air

There's so much oxygen in the air, after the rain.

Isn't it a relief when you're off duty and there's no need to go anywhere from the woods, anywhere far from the lake, anywhere else than the garden.

I'm breathing in the freshness. I wish I could bottle it for the future, keep it in stock for a bad day. Carry it around in my pocket like a magic potion.

I made a salad, it had all things green. Rocket, basil, roasted marrow and broccoli, avocado, pear, cucumber. I drizzled it with loads of lemon juice and olive oil and had it with brie and strawberry-sauce.

We follow how the flowers open up, how the trees are blooming. She knows them all, I just nod as if it would make any sense to me.

The rhubarb is ready. Maybe a pie?

I push the window open and let the wind travel through the room. I'm reading a book, somehow it feels familiar. Have I red it, long ago? It would be bizarre had I already done so. It is not whatever book, you see. It is one you'd normally remember.

This week is labelled 'pause'. If the volcanic ash keeps off, I'll press 'play' on Monday.

Something's in the air. I can't quite put my finger on it but it makes the butterflies dance.