I Find a Garden

At the top of the first flight of stairs to get to my flat from the front door is a window. Beyond the window, a forbidden flat roof. When I say forbidden, it's a roof on which a couple of years ago a decorator planted his ladder. So it's not exactly forbidden, and it's safe enough.

Since the benches have been taped off, I've been longing for somewhere to sit in fresh air. All week, my mind's been wandering to the flat roof. And yesterday, I was in conversation with an on-line community of people who seek greater connection with nature and themselves by paying close attention.

The inspiration of that community had me climbing out of the window, onto the roof. Having a reduced allocation of physical courage, I took many safety precautions, including a sturdy box on which to stand to make getting back through the window easier.

I sat in the courtyardbehind my flat, one floor up. A bee buzzed overhead, a blackbird sang. The still-bare trees (invisible to me from my home until now) stood still. The scent of  hyacinths in my window box filled the air.

Growing in confidence, I began to explore the space. It's about 2 metres wide, and 6-7 metres long, edged with a low brick lip, capped in stone. The roof surface is gravelly, mossy, and there are four raised skylights which must illuminate the shop storage rooms below. I found a potted Hosta - its leaves perfect from a lack of slugs.

Two black rubbish bags looked untidy in one corner. Thinking I'd dispose of them, I looked inside - they contained old compost, plastic pots, two long, shallow plastic trays, the tangled rootballs of forgotten plants, leaf mould. A gift. All I need, with the seeds I've been germinating for my summer window boxes, to make a garden.