Floral tributes.

My Dad goes walking most mornings up a hill near his house. We always ask him, "Did you see your pals?", meaning the rabbits, buzzard, kingfisher and hawk.

My friends at Plot 49 would be the crow, the fox and my beautiful fellow digger Mo, with her stiff hand flexing unconsciously as she speaks; like a crab getting a measure of the weather, or giving directions to some lost travellers.

I like to work alone but enjoy my occasional tea and cake breaks with Mo. Her soft voice bubbles like water warming on the camping gas stove; her conversation a kettle full of small confidences, hopes and practicalities. I drift along, happy in the warm spring sunshine, still tasting clementines and almonds from my second slice of cake.

When I leave that night the evening sun is still warm. I see the crow, not ten yards away and watch him take flight, surprised to see a large rat dangling from his claws. Its outline looks like a giant cartoon mouse; first animated, then floppy. Their silhouette against the fading sun stays with me until, walking home, I spot at the bottom of the shallow stream that runs by the allotments an abandoned recorder . It's just like one I played at school and appears to be as unloved; an ivory plastic mouthpiece is clearly visible in the water, the chocolate-brown body half hidden in silt. Tiny Hawthorn blossoms float by like confetti, bright white and honeyed in the dappled water. Birds chirp in the evening light: a requiem for school music lessons.

Before reaching home I see in someone's front garden, by the porch door, a floral tribute, shaped like a pint of lager. It's a few days old but the packed chrysanthemums are still pert and vibrant; their chrome-yellow petals standing to attention, still vivid in their grief.

So many petals in one short journey home.

4 x climbing rose £4.00
3 x notebooks £1.00
1 x 8 inch pruner £1.98
3 x seeds £1.50
Total: £8.48