Olga and I came across this unexpected sight yesterday while taking our normal morning walk. It's probably not a bad place to set up camp, somewhat protected from the wind by those high walls along the path. I heard snippets of conversation from within -- a man and a woman, I think, in a language other than English. I wonder where they're from. Are they unable to go home? Do they not have a home? What leads someone to sleep in a tent on a cold, brick pavement beside the railroad tracks in West Hampstead? How does life bring them to that point?
And then, on the way home, I came across this unexpected sight in front of a house on our street. It's a cast-iron sign that reads, "Passengers are not allowed to cross the railway except by the bridge." It was set out on the curb, presumably for the trash collection (though I don't think the trash guys are ever going to take it, at least not as part of a routine pickup).
It's pretty cool. I'd have taken it myself, but it weighs about 100 pounds and I can't imagine having to deal with that in my life.
And finally, although the garden is entering its autumnal slumber and many of the flowers and plants have faded, there's still some activity out there. The evening primroses are still blooming back in the wildflower garden...
...and a couple of scraggly sunflowers have seeded themselves in our hanging basket on the patio. (I suspect this comes from a critter burying some bird seed.)
I have laundry going, and soon I'll be walking the dog. Just another Saturday!