I drive up to the supermarket with my sunglasses on, leave the car unlocked, bring some milk and pain au chocolat to the counter where the friendly lady sits to beep my items and exchange my coins for a listed receipt. Down the lane, out of gear, seat belt unbuckled, radio on, window open, singing to the sheep, moor and sky sprawled in clear view.
Boy has time for second breakfast if I drive him to school, so I do, anticipating the view on the way back; it still makes me whoop.
Breakfast outside; hot pain au chocolat, cold wedges of melon. Overhead is a lucid pool of sky. Dock leaves grow around the fire pit, brightly flaming green. Every bit of ground is sprouting exultant flowers.
The washing machine gets on with cleaning our clothes, while I gather up pens and sketchbook. I put them on the table Mr made out of an old pallet.
A whole illustration is marked out, shaded in painstaking dots. Between each stretch of concentration, details of the day filter in. Vietnamese coffee fills a hand made mug. Dog and Cat have various comical interactions. I’m hot from the sun. Wasps gather in the kayak seat to drink yesterday’s rainwater.
Mr and me take bicycles out of the shed, ride up the crazy lane. I passed my bicycle proficiency test in 1979, I think, struggling to find my last memory of riding a bike. Progress is erratic. Saddles are less comfortable than hoped. All the passers by are smiling.
This day assembles itself like a mosaic: joyously coloured pieces constructing Wednesday’s portrait.
Comments
There is nothing forced about you, Lisa. You are the real deal.
Yesterday was exactly like waking up on a summer holiday in France, that was the precise inspiration for breakfast- one can trust a scientist to spot a precise inspiration.
Thank you for your kind attentions :-)