When my sister was little I used to take her out for a walk in the evenings leading up to Christmas to 'breathe the magical air'. The Man in the Moon would magically send a clementine to her during this walk. This year we were (although much older) due to meet up and breathe that magical air together, but this could not be. Instead I took an easy peeler for a walk and captured these photos whilst remembering just where on our real walk the orange gift would have appeared.
Singing as the darkness lifts 13/11/2023 PETRICHOR Me and my brother on a farm holiday when we were little and me and my brother at Bletchley Park more recently. I am a poet who does not like the smell of petrichor. Last night it rained enough to make puddles on the path, so the smell is not in the air. This pleases me. Instead there is a refreshing, just there, note of herb and I learn that fruit flies too are sensitive to that smell of rain on dry ground. When I was at school one of the projects involved counting fruit flies. I do not remember the exact logistics, but think it had something to do with tabling the numbers with different markings on their rears. My turn one lunch time resulted in me wracking my brains for the knowledge I needed when I dropped the lid of the fruit fly housing and some of the numbers headed for the freedom of the laboratory ceiling. I didn’t let my group down, but I do think a fruit fly flew up my nose during the process. Counting
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