'Multi-tasking' by Joyce Bingham

On the side of the river bank, Margaret placed her hand on the tree trunk and breathed in deeply, as the forest bathing self-help book suggested. She could smell the woody sap with undertones of vanilla. The birch bark was sticky and she reckoned there were a few squirming insects inhibited from their daily routine by the pressure of her hand. She glanced up into the canopy and a small leaf fell onto her glasses and the moment was lost. Many of the trees around them were spindly but others were old and gnarled like the remains of an ancient forest.

The deep water of the river swirled past the bank, but insects skated over the calm between the reeds and the rubbish. After she’d removed the leaf and cleaned her glasses, Margaret noted the litter and the run-down appearance of the trees. Margaret poured tea from her flask. The aroma of Earl Grey punched into the green algal smell and the cadaver scent of the mayflowers. Julie was drinking a coffee latte with all sorts of appendages to its description involving cardamom, orange and skinny milk. Margaret hated the taste of coffee, and perhaps so did Julie.

The bank of the meandering river was downtrodden and damaged, filled with empty bottles and crisp packets. The mud smelled sour with spilled beer and algae. Ducks moved forlorn amidst soggy pieces of white bread and half submerged plastic bags. As wash from small boats reached them it threw up a musty, fishy smell as the ducks bobbed.

Next week Margaret and Julie collected their litter picker sticks and waste bags. They would forest bathe and clean up the river bank, all at the same time. Perhaps it would smell better after they’d finished.