Loverby cut down an overgrown shrub that was taking up most of the corner in the yard. When it was gone, we were amazed at the room we suddenly had. He's going to build a little shed for garden tools in its place. It will look like an outhouse, with a moon cut out in the door.
It was a throw away shrub covered with tiny flowers and a red berry that wasn't edible, even by the birds. I won't miss it.
When Tess and I saw the pile of branches, we wondered how to recycle them. We started weaving them into a screen between two posts. In England, they call it wattling. We didn't have a clue how to, but it grew, unplanned, one twig at a time.
The more we added, the stronger it became. The stronger it became the more pleasing it looked. We started dreaming of things to grow on it.
We had sweet conversation as we worked and wove ~ of the dreams we each had growing in us.
It was good. The unplanned became.
Symbolic as I look at it through the new light of this morning.