The Anti-Archaeologist

Until we had a garden of our own, I never understood how archaeology happened. How could stone and brick be swallowed up by the earth? After two and a half years of battling against the twin forces of grass and periwinkle that threaten to overwhelm all the solid structures in the garden if you so much as blink, I begin to see how it happens.

After our combined strenuous efforts this weekend, we have cleaned out the paths and patio, all the better to reveal how drunken these slabs actually are. I have pulled up periwinkle until my shoulder muscles cried out in protest, but there is still plenty left.
The Dove Grey Reader saw it as a harbinger of spring this morning, but I don't think I have ever seen ours without a flower somewhere. And it's not even really our periwinkle. It creeps under the fence from the even scruffier garden next door, and is trying to take over the world, in alliance with the grass. They insinuate themselves between slabs and bricks and can never quite be pulled out. There is always enough left for them to return (although the 'lawn' boasts large bald patches).

It has been a glorious gift of a weekend. Sometimes I don't manage to leave the house between Friday evening and Monday morning, but this weekend I fell as if I have spent more time outdoors than in. Playing around with the zoom on the camera I caught this.
They may 'only' be starlings, but they were beautiful and glossy and singing in the sunshine.