Even in the city there are little spots of wildness. This year the lane behind my house has exploded with life. The usual beautiful tall flowers are there, white and green but migrants from the gardens have sprung up too ( so that’s where my hollyhocks went) Whether it was the cool wet spring or the beneign neglect of the householders, something kick started growth here. That means that there are more and different insects. I have seen strange little wasps, honey bees from my neighbor’s hive, bumble bees, dragonflies, a new flying insect that looks ordinary until it flies off, revealing red underwings. All this means that the birds are happy. Yesterday, late in the afternoon I enjoyed with my company the lively song of a cardinal and the finches serenade me most days. I have to be careful not to confuse the beautiful trills of a caged canary in a neighbor’s house with some wild bird song. Control yourself, Isobel! Don’t call the Audubon society. Yes, control yourself, but why control nature. You can see from the pictures that the other end of the lane is more manicured. My end is spookier at night. There are probably little colonies of mice living there, although the feral cats keep them down, I am sure. Among he wild raspberries grow deadly nightshade. I have a sinking feeling that one day the city will send a mowing machine down here as it has in the past. Perhaps austerity will save the green lane in spite of the grumbles next door. Go fix potholes, city workers and leave me alone in the little green world.