I push the old iron gate open, take a few steps and pass through a row of stone oaks. Crisp leaves under my feet, a rustling overhead and a fresh shade on my skin. Today, this is the important gate. A cloud of bird song. Dazzling. I stop. Oh, bumblebees! Sailing overhead, the first ones this year. No, probably not. The first ones I notice this year. There are insect hotels and lots of nesting boxes, big and small ones. Looking really new. This arboretum is not at all left to decay. There were talks about building a new family friendly amusement centre here, because no-one cares about the old arboretum anyway and it’s just filling up with poo bags from dog walkers hanging their filled bags from branches (for whatever reason). But that’s not true at all. Two grey haired women are working alongside the insects. They are planting what could be a pear or apple tree. 

Idyllic buzzing in the silver flowers of a maple tree. This just feels good. It doesn’t matter the council didn’t put money into this, obviously. People have come together and are doing things anyway. These leaflets I designed for the council a while back — this collaboration between the council and this minigolf company — family friendly golf blah blah in the shade of charismatic trees, or what was that about? Was that supposed to go here? Is that still on? Not heard anything about that anymore… 

 

What a lovely place. For plants, people, animals. Inviting. I’m invited. Let’s walk on. Oh what a dreamy spot: white blossoms of fruit trees cast speckled shade onto the stems of birches with their gentle pattern. Right here a café. ‘The Dune Café.’ Lovely. Here a brightly foamed cappuccino. Yes. Tables as loosely scattered in the grass as the sun and shade falling from the blossoms. A jolly coincidence of speckled light.

 

The waitperson must be inside. Can’t look in very well, the sun is so bright the indoors seem dark, stark contrast. Ah yes, there is someone. Motion behind the counter. And I think we are looking at each other. 

  “Could I have a cappuccino, please?”

  “Of course!” a warm male voice. Sounds like he’s in a good mood. “Do you want soya milk or almond milk? We are a vegan café.”

Oh! Okay, let’s be open-minded. 

  “I never tried any of that. What’s good?”

  “Almond milk is a bit bitter. But good bitter — I think it goes well with coffee, I mean, coffee is a bit bitter too, isn’t it. Whereas soy is more like smooth and rounds it off.”

Don’t want anything to round things off, I want the real stuff! Today and from today on!

  “I go for the almond!”

  “Good choice. I’ll bring it to the table in a minute.”

 

It would be lovely to paint this. Come back one day with water colours maybe. Well, I could at least take some photos. Where is my mobile… Stop. No. I shan’t turn this into a motif. This is real. Resist the need to take a picture. Lean back. Look. Capture it within your memory. This whole day. Here, the birch. Amazing, the stem. Wee golden stripes like the eternal manifestation of spring time sun on a white plain, white like an unwritten future. My unwritten future?  

 

  “A cappuccino with almond milk.” I jump. “woh-“ The warm male voice behind me laughs, a hand shoves a cup in front of me, froth topped. “I didn’t notice you were coming, I was so absorbed in these — uhm” not patterns. No, not patterns —  “in this birch stem. How it looks, I mean.” Okay, that sounded idiotic. I look up into a smile. A young woman. Short tousled curls, freckles, and a feather behind one ear, is that a pigeon feather? She wears an apron, reading ‘the dunes café. Love coffee, love vegan life, love dunes’.