each morning has been utter delight lately. I do it just as it is beginning to get light, before the bright daylight bleaches the colour out of everything.
The fence we share with our Chinese neighbours is an extraordinary busy-ness of colour. There is the deep green of the jasmine leaves, the waxy white of the jasmine flowers with the pink and deep red within. There is another green of the ivy with creamy white trailing through the leaves.
The nasturtium leaves are a brilliant lime green and the flowers are red, gold, orange, apricot, sun yellow and cream.
In the evenings the perfume of the jasmine is strong. It overpowers the more earthy smell of the nasturtiums. I prefer the lighter, fresher morning perfume - the 'newness of the day' perfume.
All these things are mixed together in wild, exuberant abundance. They flow down the fence on either side. They are heading for the footpath in one direction and in the direction of one of our tanks in the other. Before long the nasturtiums will curl around the bottom of the peach tree and into the lemon verbena bush. They will talk to the lavender if given a chance.
The jacaranda trees are about to flower too. They will leave a slightly sticky lavender coloured carpet in the streets. The perfume will be faintly like honey. I know they make a mess and that some finicky people will complain that they need to sweep up the mess each morning. For me the pleasure far outweighs the need to deal with the mess.
This morning when I went out there was a jogger. I know him by sight. He stopped, waved at the fence and said,
"I have been coming this way just for that. May I bring my camera tomorrow? I'll see if I can get it when the light is right."
He is welcome. I am not sure I want to capture it forever. It is tempting but I think I might appreciate it even more if I have to wait for it again.