This morning the air smells cold. It is clear and fresh as though it has been rinsed by night. I sense floral elements, but even standing still under the blue sky and breathing deeply I cannot name them.

Alt text offers no suggestions for this week’s photo. I say it is part of each of the photos for the month of June on the two calendars I like to make each year. The #LookThere calendar has Ronnie somersaulting for joy at the Welsh coast with a wind farm out at sea, and the #ElasticBandPhotos calendar features ‘Curled in Shade’ which shows a discarded elastic band curled on the ground. It was lovely to read a comment on social media where a viewer felt the elastic band looked as though it was hugging itself.

I like turning over the calendars at the start of each month. New pictures, new starts. An additional reminder of potential. I also like to choose something to look back on to see where I have come from. This time I chose to reflect on my walking because I wanted to see the evidence of my improved habits. I also knew that it was going to be positive and there is something comforting right now in that reassurance. And when I looked I saw that both my walking apps for May (one for brisk minutes and one for distance) indicated that I worked hard on my fitness for the whole month. This feels worthy of celebration and also sets me up to continue the pattern this month. My walking is good for my physical and mental health and is also important because it will enable me to enjoy the experience of walking up Snowdon for sunrise. I want to be fit enough to enjoy all elements of the climb as I go so that I stay present in the moment.

There was also in the moment evidence that my walking efforts are working whilst on a trip out to Hawkstone Park. The park features a number of follies and the fact that these are set within a hilly area means there are plenty of steps to climb. My legs coped well, and I didn’t have that leaden feeling that I often associate with climbing steps.

I recorded some poetry videos this week and during the process I noticed that I do quite a lot of swinging on my chair. When I work to diminish this so that it is less of a distraction to the viewer I find myself twirling my fingers out of camera shot instead. It makes sense to me now why I was always comfortable leaning on a tabletop when attending meetings, or why I felt the need to constantly doodle on my notepad – I need some kind of bodily feedback to anchor me. I also learned that I am easily distracted by social media videos of thirsty camels drinking water that they are offered from water bottles or the range of clips that show that cats don’t seem to like jumping on tinfoil. Noting all this means I have ways of speeding up the video recording process if I need to in the future!

There has been a new way for me to anchor myself in the moment when out walking because I now have a set of in-ear headphones. I love the way I can be completely connected to music whilst out in the open air. I thought they would be good, and they have exceeded my expectations. I used to long for a veranda overlooking nothing but the sea, or hills, or mountains so that I could sit out on at the end of the day and listen to music while the sun sets. It’s like my wife has bought me my own version of that very veranda in those two in-ear devices. I can sit out with music at a level I can hear without worrying about disturbing the neighbours. It also means I have had music in my ears whilst mowing the lawn, digging out a range of weeds and taming a variety of things that have been growing and growing. This is useful for me because I miss music when I don’t get to listen to it and it also gives a relaxed feel to things that can otherwise feel like chores. It helps to know I can put one of my favourite albums on and use this designated time outdoors.

My garden time this week included digging a decent sized hole to plant a gooseberry bush. Seeing the spade cut through the topsoil and down into the clay reminded me of my brother and I digging in the garden when we were young. I captured my memories of this in a poem. It’s another good poem for my ‘Play’ setlist for National Poetry Day in October and in celebration of that I will share it here now:

Digging that Hole

Day after day she let us dig that hole.

You made the sides straight,

marvelled at lines you called strata.

I just liked the way there was real orange

in amongst the expected brown

how it looked sliced instead of dirty.

I disliked the crumbs at the bottom,

that never diminishing scattering,

that I couldn’t spade out.

You said if we kept on, worked hard enough,

we’d feel warmth from the centre of the earth,

that we’d know by laying our hands flat

on the bottom of our freshly dug hole.

You told me Australia was right beneath us.

It all seemed so worth digging for.

I pictured us emerging in a different country,

staying there until teatime,

coming back to tell Mum.

Each time you pressed your palm to feel for heat

you looked hopeful

silently inviting me to copy.

But I only ever felt the cold damp

of earthworms.

The first thing I thought of each holiday morning

was digging that hole. I pictured you

spade ready, jumping in, getting started,

swinging your loaded spade high.

I imagined myself up top

remembering that excavated piles

took up more room out of the hole than in;

shovelling the earth away as quickly as I could;

being interrupted by your sudden warning –

it’s hot, the lava’s coming.