All day marvellous words pour through my head to describe the sounds, sights, and scents of nature. This morning a light frost was laid out for our delectation, harming no flowers, stilting no birdsong. I have energy to get gardening, to plan, to write the novel, but daily life is scarcely reported upon in spite of how it describes itself to me.
We are tentatively out of lockdown, allowed to meet outside in socially distanced groups of up to 6. We are allowed to teach outdoors, numbers limited by space, keeping a 2 metre gap between students (unless they are a family bubble).
At home we have the gazebo set up with a picnic bench to host outdoor socialising.
Internally we are weary, we are tattered lace on spindly side tables.
Every little bit of rest like this morning’s coffee in bed is held onto as though I am stockpiling loveliness in order to survive. I am writing this to help ease that mentality. I would like to adjust out of isolation, I would like to be a light frost thawing prismatically with no dust, no damage.
At lunchtime today I took a walk, found a footpath new to me, a view through wire fencing down to Gribbin Head, where the rocks basked in the thrown sparkle of sun on sea. I went around the back of some bold big houses where a magnolia tree leaned over shrubs to offer me a flower. I took one petal, it was the size of my palm, white like marble. I stole it and I ate it.
It was slightly bitter but it tasted like fun.
Comments
You ATE a magnolia blossom? Huh. I've admired them since I was a child, but I've gotta say, it never occurred to me to ever pop one into my mouth for a snack. Live and learn, eh? HA
Spring in the step quite literally :-) xx