I found myself stuck in a tree.
Cold and wet. Rain dripping on my head.
Hair matted against my face like sticky icicles.
I was jogging. Huffing and puffing through the park.
I leapt over shimmering puddles on the footpath.
My warm rosy cheeks welcomed the light drizzle.
But as the rain began to pour from the sky and the colours of the park faded into a dull grey haze, I found a patch of dry grass under a tree and I waited. I waited and waited.
As I think back now, I’m not sure what possessed me, but I thought it’d be really cool to climb the tree. Relieve my boredom? Better view perhaps? Maybe I’ll stumble upon some other critter also waiting for the rain to stop?
So there I sat. Three branches up. Swaying in the breeze.
The last branch notch filled up with water, became too slippery and I couldn’t get a proper grip to get back down. I felt like such a retard. Just me and my two braincells.
Birds flew by and snickered. Ants and caterpillars were showing off. And the tree groaned in burdensome displeasure. In the end I had to take off my jacket, wedge it into the footing and make my way down in an inelegant tangle of legs and arms. I felt like such an island girl after that.
I hate wearing gloves when I’m gardening. I know it can be really bad for your hands and nails, if you don’t.
But I just love to touch things.
I love feeling squishy dirt between my fingers. Leaves crunch under my palms. Cold mud smeared on my skin. I love the feeling of waxy leaves, velvety petals, juicy succulents, smooth hard sticks, crumbly rough bark, firm packed earth. All nature’s erotic textures.
I raked up the rainbow of autumn leaves strewn over our lawn. I made a mountain as high as my waist. And I started to fling handfuls of leaves into the bin.
Half way through, I paused. My still arms outstretched.
I watched in slow motion as my wedding ring flew off my finger. It tumbled gracefully through the air. I watched it pause in space, twinkling in the mid-morning sun, before plummeting to the earth like a burning rocketship to hell, straight into the pile of leaves.
I swear it slid its way to the bottom. Into a little pocket between the fabric of time itself.
I must’ve spent hours sitting there in the dirt, turning over every single leaf. One by one. Golden flecks of dead leaves mocking my patience. Little beetles nipping at my ungloved hands. Leaf after leaf. One after the other. My mind was numb.
And there it sat. Under the 4,536th leaf. Glinting a cold metal glint, before warming up between my fingers to become mine again. My unsolicited needle/haystack meditation exercise was over for the week.
My 15mo, Callum LOVES pointing at strangers.
It’s his new thing. He’ll squeal “Ooo! Ooo!” and frantically wave his hands around and points at them, until they wave back. If they don’t… he scrunches up his nose and growls at them instead. It’s very cute.
Yesterday I left Callum with my mum and spent a couple of hours sitting in a cafe reading a book. Hot coffee. Hot apple pie. The warm sun on my back. I plunged deep into a lush world of kings and magicians. Elves and dwarves. This is the second time I’ve read The Magician, first time was when I was a teenager, but it was so nice to read it again.
I resurfaced as the cafe staff began to stack chairs. Time had flown. The setting sun now throwing coins of light onto the wooden floors. The evening breeze slowly pushing the pockets of warmth from the windows. It has been a long time since I’ve felt so refreshed. And it felt goooood.
Callum is 14 months now. He weighs 10kgs.
He loves turning my computer on and off, and making the CD tray open and close.
Callum’s a very fussy eater! Here I am trying to cook the tastiest kid meals ever. Full of colour, nutrition and variety. I’m such a supermum in the kitchen. Cheesey ham scones, pizza bites, mini bacon quiches, tuna + tomato pasta, funky fruit shapes, chicken + vege porridge, roast pumpkin + potatoes, yummy beefy stews… and all he wants to eat is rice. Plain rice. My hours of food prep spat onto the floor and I shake my head with the bittersweet anguish of motherhood.
Ha. I keep surprising people when I tell them that yes, we are still using BOTH cloth nappies and disposables.
I use about 3 cloth nappies a day. And usually in the afternoons, when I know there’s no pooping action happening. The nappy bucket sits outside the laundry and I wash them once a week. It’s actually been real easy to keep up!
We had to stop his swimming lesson temporarily. Ear infections and underwater dips don’t mix.
I went to a ‘closing down’ jewellery sale on the weekend.
You’ll be proud to know that I maintained a respectable amount of self control.
Nonetheless, I managed to whip up a few awesome bargains.
My girlfriend, along with all her handmade creations are off to London. Now I’ll have to find my jewellery fix else where. Sniff.