Friday Noir


Fourth of May, 2012

Fast down the alleyway, on foot, not sure if I have missed a turn because it’s dark, although, no: I have seen that same cat stroll from the shadow of that same wall, when daylight made the place look friendlier.

Jump out of the dream in alarmed sync; disorientated but with time, this morning, to wash my face and drink leftover coffee, half a cup.

I am wearing all of yesterday’s clothes, not that Baby will judge.

She picks, interestedly, at a bit of dried sick on my jeans. ‘Lasagne,’ I remind her and she nods. After lunch she adds a bit of cottage pie to the Baby collage on my leg. The carrot is especially conspicuous against grey denim. 
It is her whimsy today to drag the nappy change bag round the front room. When I remind her that fiddling with plug sockets is not permitted, she pats the bag strap. It signals- ‘But I have a bag, the sign of a grown up.’ Then she smiles and shakes her head, for she is just teasing me with her clever disguise.

At home, the kettle boils some water so I can make the pot of coffee I am craving. I sit out under warm cloud; sleep jumps back. There’s a half-cup of liquid noir left for me to discover, auspiciously, on my second waking. 


Comments

Tracy said…
It sounds like you need a day to just hang back and relax...and actually sleep!take good care!@
5 May 2012 at 01:09
Lisa Southard said…
Have caught up some sleep now- thank you Tracy :-)
5 May 2012 at 09:42
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

Image
There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
Read more

Spring Is Ticking

Image
It has been a while since I wrote a blog post - I have been writing books, and keeping a diary, the days and the work aren’t lost, just ticking quietly in a corner. [There’s a little dust in that corner but the shelf is made of strong oak planks, and the light is enchanting. A plant grows in a pot, it spouts leaves. A half candle stands in a china holder.] At Paddock Garden (properly titled Paddock Garden Orchards, I am a lazy typer) a tree corral has been constructed. It contains persimmons which may not have survived the recent cold blasts and heavy rain, along with some happy pepper trees, bladdernuts, and plum yews. We plan to underplant and interplant extensively in this concentrated area. Around the grounds also we have begun some windbreak hedges, mostly of elaeagnus and hazel. We have a line of sapling native oaks edging the spinney. The first of our camping bay areas is growing emerald grass that was seeded last autumn; the second has recently been seeded; the last three need ...
Read more

September's End

Image
September is all but done. Our fingers are purple from plucking berries, scored by thorns, sore and satisfied. How lucky we are, and how grateful! Through the cold spring, and the soggy summer, we have worked to make this place more and more beautiful. We are charming sustenance from the soil with our toiling; using the present to craft a kinder path- a tree-lined, fruit-bearing way.  And so here we are, in autumn, a time of harvest, glut, and storage. A time to plant trees, a time of festival. Our lives are seasonal, tidal, temperate, held in repetitions that are never the same; variations of repeating patterns, a common uniqueness. How lucky we are, and how grateful! Pollinator friendly saplings added to  the firepit hedge, lower field.
Read more