The memory maple..

Day #373

Field maple (acer campestre) is a pretty little native tree. One of my favourites. And I’ve always nurtured little native trees and shrubs wherever I can find them…

Jill and I are at Lings Bar hospital, Gamston, Nottingham with mum. She’s not well. We’re having a cuppa and kit-Kat in their Options cafe. I’m leading a two person singalong where only one of us knows the words - watched by bemused office staff whose windows are open.

We’d pushed open the doors to the little-used courtyard where we can sit in the shade.

Sue behind the counter is hugely apologetic about the weed-infested space we sit in.

So I begin to pull out weeds. My behaviour isn’t universally approved . But I pull up weeds and tidy a corner.

To confirm my eccentric  behaviour I wrap a little seedling prized from the cracks in the paving slabs in an options paper napkin and ask Jill to put it in her handbag. A tiny field maple.

At home, I’ve popped the crumpled seedling into potting compost and given it a drink.