It rained, so we filled the house with projects.

Buttons from tube train doors, soldering iron and multimeter, solar panels, and boxes full of electronics parts. The kinds of loosely ongoing hobby projects that will forever be unfinished and which persist for so long that each reappraisal of it brings new experience, tools acquired, or skills learned since the last attempt.

Candles were lit and (perversely) Boy Meets World was on repeat in the background.

Labels were printed for the large chest of tiny Perspex drawers that will contain our screws, our Rawl plugs, our hooks, our nails and our what-is-this-thing-oh-it-came-with-that-Ikea-unit-but-we-didn’t-use-it-but-we-kept-it-in-case-it-will-come-in-handy-one-day. No more treacherous raking of fingers through pots of miscellaneous metal objects.

This pink and black plastic unit pairs nicely with the recently added set of hooks on the inside of the door to the cupboard under the stairs. Our tools now rattle precariously but in a visible, orderly fashion, rather than chucked into an abyss-like toolbox which seems only designed for easy deposit but not retrieval.

We went out for a walk in the woods after the rain stopped and I felt deep joy once again at having a ferny, lush woodland only a few minutes from our door.

Our town is full of springs and issues (Springs and Issues would be such a good title for something), and many of these lay dormant until the water table rises sufficiently to give them enough flow to restart. In this way the landscape feels like it is constantly evolving, which is pleasing for what feels like tamed suburbia. The ground beneath our feet is alive, and old pre-existing features remain present.

While this is apparent on the streets, where a faint green trail of algae is often discernible, marking the path of some water emerging from points unknown, it is in the woodlands and green pastures that it is most visible, as trickles become streams, and divots in the land collect water into small ponds once more.

There is a small man made waterfall in the woods which has been virtually dry of late, a stagnant muddy pool leading to a gap in a brick wall which bears the signs of erosion by water. But today water was cascading through the slot. It transformed not just the look and feel of this section, but also the soundscape, filling the air with a roar.

It was only a short walk to clear our heads while there was still some daylight available, but it was a lovely one.

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