When I was in Seville in March I found a walk alongside the river named after our Lady of the O. She was new to me but I loved the name and the O at that time was significant because the orange blossom was out and the whole city was infused in it. I was on our Lady's walk when I saw the dove climbing steps to nowhere in particular, a brick wall I think, and the dove reminded me of circus tricks when animals and birds are trained to do something simple but useless.
The dove, though, was simply using its feet which probably took less energy than flying from step to step. This speculation is the kind of pointless meandering I do to stop myself getting on with, or thinking about something else.
I'm trying not to worry about the new cucumber plants being attacked by slugs since rain's forecast today (and we need it, but I only transplanted the cucumbers yesterday). I'm putting off doing an application to the local authority about care costs. I'm looking at plaster in my room which is bubbled and mottled from damp, hopefully now dried out after I had the windows fixed. I'll have to fill and bodge but I take heart from the attitude of the brilliant Agnes Varda, who in a documentary about her life, points proudly to a damp ceiling (I have that too) and its beautiful patterns.
The dove was doing its thing, thankfully as birds do. And it has survived the human tendency to tame other species. If that's optimism, it'll do for now.
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