You and I.

April 2021, at the end of jobs.

You in the hand-knitted hat, pulling with strong arms a barrow piled high with large, unsplit logs. And me, one hand with 2 spades grasped at the necks, the other with 2 colourful watering cans. Between them a plastic box with bamboo canes and your work jumper inside. Lain atop, a hastily gathered posie of forget-me-nots, so pretty on this scrubby bank as tumbling from the little squat jug on our kitchen table.