The Beginning.

In the beginning there were the beer cans. The empty paint tins. Plastic bags, rusted metal, and a head cushion from a first-class train carriage.

Today was a good day for gardening: started off foggy, then developed into sunshine and warmth. I cleared all the surface debris, filling a bag.

I'm leaving the road signs. They're like outside art.

The garden itself, rubbish removed, is mostly soil, rocks, long curls of bark (the tree sheds), and strange leafy weeds:

Today I dug up perhaps a fifth of the garden; the very end by the wall. It worries me that the only growth is these strange weeds - are they the only thing capable of growing?

Here is the garden as it looks now. I'll continue clearing the weeds until it's all done, then decide what to do next. Some of the ground is so thick with rocks and bits of bricks it's almost impossible to dislodge. And getting mud under my fingernails is not a sensation that I've missed.

I should get it all dug over this week.

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