Adventures of me, Lisa Southard: writer, gardener, forager, care worker, Tae Kwon-Do Instructor, Granma, and co-owner of 5 acres of pasture. Dreams take work!
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...
Holidays for us are usually little days here and there; a few nights of camping, a walk around a historical garden, a stopover with grandchildren. This year Mr began to receive his pension, so we saved up the money and launched into a full week in Tromso, Northern Norway. We last went abroad in 2009: luckily we had help with organising the trip because the choice was overwhelming (should you be based in the UK, Adventure With Me Abbey Lee is a fledgling small business; please support). We picked Tromso because Mr has always wished to see the Aurora Borealis, somewhere snowy. There is no guarantee to see it, of course, wherever you go. Nature is under no obligation. Still, we would be gathering memories, we would know that we tried. Also, back in March, we lost someone precious to us- so this quest of ours was powered by honouring a commitment to the joyfulness of life. Here is how our Northern Lights Chase went: ‘Tuesday December 3rd As I type this, we are on a minibus heading out on ...
Aurum drifts from an avenue of beech: we scuff up fibrous coinage, walking the riverbank path. Two hounds bound into the clear brook and out, sniff stumped trees, scrabble claws on flood-smoothed granite. It's good magic at Golitha Falls. We breathe it: the scent of clear river, green fern, tree bark, wet rock, fresh leaf fall. Otters live here: we will not see them, we know, we must imagine it: Dog and Fat Beagle make too much splash. We love the road signs seen on approach: Caution Otters crossing. Tree roots bump the path, mossed green: can be mistaken with delighting ease; serpents; dragon tails; giants' fingers: emerging like stories, irrepressible, earth-nourished. I think of Midas: how wrong he was, turning everything to gold with indiscriminate touch. Autumn is the wiser alchemist, truly rich. Two hounds bound: scatter fulvous treasures. Before home, coffee appears in a shining flask cap.
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