Wednesday, June 11, 2025

Ladybird larva, buzzard and lists.

1. The shadow of a ladybird larva on a leaf above my head -- clinging on despite the wind's shaking.

2. Turn my head, at a blackbird's alarm. Catch sight of a buzzard launching itself out of the scrub.

3. Soothing lists of names and places in The Cattle Raid of Cooley as I am reading myself off to sleep.

Tuesday, June 10, 2025

Morning scents, getting used to it and teen gossip.

1. Half-awake, half asleep, I can smell the heat on her curling wand.

2. The new prescription in my glasses is a large jump, and it's taking a bit of getting used to. Even a short walk or an hour of work leaves me feeling seasick. Luckily I've got six episodes of Letters from a Long Marriage lined up so I don't mind taking half-hour breaks as needed.

3. We are talking about communicating better as parents, and the youth workers admit that they love hearing teen gossip and drama.

Monday, June 09, 2025

Learning to cook, harvest and path.

1. I'm here at the table distracting myself with my phone so that she can teach herself to cook in peace and security.

2. I grew these herbs and cut the stems and hung them up in the kitchen to dry. Now I'm breaking them into storage jars for tea and for cooking, and I'm thinking you don't get much volume of dried herb for that work. Meanwhile, in the garden, the mint has put up new growth, ready for cutting again.

3. Our red brick garden path is scattered with white daisy petals.

Friday, June 06, 2025

Late morning, wet day and stickering.

1. Rough night, slow start. Drinking tea and sitting quietly until I'm ready to begin. 

2. Through the cracked open window, the soft persistent sound of summer rain.

3. As promised, once the table is cleared, we spend some of the evening bent over tiny sticker scenes, using tweezers to place minute cushions and little pandas in a library and a coffee shop.

Thursday, June 05, 2025

Bracket fungus, pinks and owls.

1. From the path I spot a head-sized bright orange bracket fungus on a dead tree. I try to get in for a closer look, but the way is blocked by brambles and holly and rough ground.

2. We bury our noses in the pots of pinks, for their clove scent.

3. Deep in the night -- I can't sleep, but through the open window I can hear owls on the common.

Wednesday, June 04, 2025

Official, escape and writing session.

1. A short-notice visit from an official causes a flurry of tidying. He almost certainly doesn't notice (which is good, because you'd want him to think we were always well-kempt and not paddling a sinking boat) but it is very pleasant for us after he has finished and gone to luxuriate in our ordered space.

2. While gossiping with a neighbour, I notice that a sweet pea vine, almost certainly related to the ones that I train up and over our fence, is twining itself around the litter bin across the road.

3. I join an hour-long online writing session and feel like I'm doing my real work (even though these early drafts feel a lot like play). Check out Tania Hershman's events and join us on the next one.

Tuesday, June 03, 2025

Sun/shade, saffron and vinegar.

1. We walk and talk through dusty sunshine and dappled shade.

2. I did wash my hands before coming out, but they still smell of saffron from the dough I've been kneading.

3. A mysterious vinegary smell is more interesting than French vocab. We chase it down through the house to where Nick is treating a pan in the kitchen.

Spider work, salts and bickering.

  1. Cobwebs gleam where they catch the low-angled sun -- polygonal nets strung from brambles; gauzy dancefloors in the gorse. 2. Tipping th...