Sixteen by six steps, I paced it out. Double it for the front and back, that’s the size of my outside space. Including the footprint of the house, it feels similar to the size of a tennis court.
My world, like everyone else’s, has shrunk. Contracted to the size of my garden and where I can walk from my front door. It’s challenging but I’m thankful for my garden and, whilst we’re permitted a daily dose of outdoor exercise, I have the open space of Lincoln’s West Common.
The Common is a short walk from my house. I went there a few days ago, early in the morning when I would normally be on my morning commute. A skylark sang somewhere high above, invisible against the backdrop of blue.
Then one landed in front of me. He stood proudly on top of a mole hill. The king of the castle. But the crown hadn’t been given yet. Another skylark appeared. There was a flurry of feathers. Tail feathers were fanned. The dispute was brief, then they went their separate ways. Territories were still being determined.