Who looks after the pots on the lane

There are pots by almost every door on the lane: tall terracotta ones, wooden tubs, a small conifer in a barrel, and red flowers in boxes on the balconies above. None of them ever look dry, and in a whole summer of walking through I never saw anyone with a watering can.

I started going earlier. At eight the cobbles by some of the pots were already dark with water. At seven, the same. I gave up at six, which is when I admitted this was no longer about plants.

Care you are not meant to see

Some of the nicest things about a street are maintained by people who would rather not be thanked. The pots move a little from week to week, turned towards the light or out of someone’s way, and that is the only sign of them.

If you walk the lane on a dry morning, look at the stones around the pots. Somebody got there first.