Procrastinating In A Borrowdale Garden

This day was humid and although I was intrigued
to look up at Base Brown and think of climbing it,
hanging out in the overgrown back garden was what
my heart was clinging to, then a swim in the river
with the boys. I leaned up against the wall
and touched the soft yellow flowers.
The fell would still be there tomorrow.

My memories of Lake District holidays as a kid
were all about rain and intensely green and
tangled cottage gardens that suggested a
thin layer between this world and other,
more magical ones.

That night we made a fire and sat drinking beer
and looking up at the now murky fell,
and our faces glowed brightly as the boys ran
through the field in some kind of fantasy adventure
game with sticks.