All things have their place of belonging.
I was camping in the garden this morning, I awake by the banging of a fence, then something heavy lands on top of the tent, then the animal heads noisily for a nearby tree. My organic alarm clock is next seen on top of the shed as I irritably stick my head out of the tent to glare at the pigeon. Time flies, I slept through the night without waking. It is before 7am.
I water my three oak saplings, the curled leaves firming like the sails of a windmill in the early morning sun. I water ten pots of soil, the invisible locus of ten acorns that I despair may never awaken.
I find the container for a bird bath, fill it with water and place it on the bird bath. All things have their belonging, the container and bird bath are once more reunited after a long absence for enjoyment of birds. I reunite random scattered pots together in their collective home.
It is crazy that one is so happy about fox poop, but the evidence near the oak saplings tells me Amber the fox is around. I am working out if a location behind the fence is a fox burrow, a tennis ball is at its entrance, a fox chew toy? I placed a digestive biscuit at the entrance yesterday to see if it would vanish, the biscuit appears to have gone. To be certain I place two more digestive biscuits at the entrance, I will wait until tomorrow to see if these too will vanish**. Perhaps Amber has found a place of belonging behind my fence. I crush a third digestive and scatter it on the grass, the birds seem delighted.
** I wrote this article yesterday, the two biscuits vanished in the night when I checked them this morning.