A bird in the bush

I was so tuckered that come half past five I just wanted to sit out in the sunshine and rest my bones. Behind me the big rose bush was full of birds. 
I’d been at it from morning; bags and bags of garden waste carried to the Seafield dump. Then to Thistle Building supplies at the Gyle to pick up cement and sand and setts. And bags of washed pebbles for the daughter. And dropping them off at hers, I picked up dozens of old bricks to ferry down to my work-in-progress patch. I say work in progress; the hard landscaping starts tomorrow. I may post a blip of it - unless it looks unimpressive of course. In fact, now that I’ve written that, I realise how could it not be. Of course it’ll be unimpressive. But I may just get a teeny bit of satisfaction and that’ll be quite enough.