Summer in Ticino

Summer spreads its golden fingers in the spaces between shadow and light. the scent of moss and soil reach from the flower beds against the stone wall. Stinging sun-rays pinch my bare wrists. Along the gravelled path that leads through the wrought-iron gate, Cypresses lean their blue shadows across the lawn.

It’s summer and the ants are weaving their restless pattern through the grass. At the far end of the garden there is a pond with tad-poles in it. Water lilies grow there and water weeds. Speckled goldfish dart through the murky water; they come in and out of sight like sparks of lightning inside a cumulus of green storm clouds.

There is a stillness in the air, a tension which is softened only by the sound of swallow’s wings. Swallows dive through the turquoise sky to catch insects. Sometimes they land by the pond and gather a portion of soft clay to mend their nest. The nest is high up, just beneath the wooden beams of a roof — from here, it is visible through the foliage overgrowing the pergola.

The vine is a python coiling its fluid body around the granite structure of the pergola. It stretches its broad leaves toward the sun, it grows tendrils that test the air like slender fingers. Grapes hang in clusters, they are swelling and growing plump on the vine. Blushing.

A ladybird lands on my forearm and crawls towards by wrist before wearing off, on to the wooden surface of the table.