A Matter Of Time And Toil

['Printing isn't quite as mechanical as people think. The people who take a little more time with machines print something better... There is love and craft in it, which means that a person with a better heart can do it better.'
David Hockney.]

Pick Up The List
By the clang of the plumber’s spanner and the lightness of his humming, it is not too crazy to believe the burst pipe joint can be mended. Dare I hope that the whining pitch of the singing toilet also be soothed? I think about this, then dismiss my feelings; it will happen or not happen, hope and worry have no part in play here. I make mugs of tea and prepare to mop. Meanwhile Dog runs out, chases her ball the long length of the garden. The air is the kind of damp which can gather in raindrops or disperse into heat. The nextdoor chickens are slow clucking. The nextdoor chickens are great fence breechers: consequently chicken wrangling is a new hobby of ours. Tasks and chores for the day line up. Roll up my sleeves, pick up the list, move on.

A Vision Of Sustenance
It seems our plumber has indeed curbed the ambition of the singing toilet. There is a whisper, a murmur, even silence. Behind the bath panel, an abandoned bath rack is found and restored to soap minding duties. Mr has crafted and cobbled a selection of shelves. I am herding objects to pragmatic places. Then I change my mind. Then I rethink. Then I trial a fresh arrangement. Then I can be certain that the first idea was the best idea.
At the old house, possessions are shooed into heaps of keep and not-keep. Higgedly fruit garden is pouring out currants and berries. Last years apples are out of the deep freeze, into the press, as we squeeze the most use from the end of our Rosehill era.
We plan a civilised layout, for moving the fruit bushes from the wild tilts of Rosehill to the gentle slope of Number Three, with room between rows for lawnmower access. Mr proposes an irrigation system and a compost regime. Having lived so long without ease or order, how agreeable this groundwork seems. Just a matter of some time and toil: next years fruits will be lined up on the bushes; boiling in my jam pan; blipping in shelved jars. 

Homemade smoothies are the best :-) 


Suze said…
'I think about this, then dismiss my feelings; it will happen or not happen, hope and worry have no part in play here.'

Officially impressed.

(Absolutely lovely image of the little one.)
Lisa Southard said…
I am holding my nerve very well here, a little bit impressed with myself, to be honest! It is a good test of attitude, and a relief to find that I do practice what I advocate and it does work. Phew! Baby loves her Grandad's smoothies, but Girl isn't too keen on the subsequent nappy filling. (She lives in an upstairs flat with no outside bin- that tests your attitude and sense of smell!)
Teresa Cypher said…
Moving forward. Oh my, what a couple of months it has been for you and Mr.

I think I will miss Rosehill too, as brief as my vicarious "stay" there was ;-)

Will you find a poetic name for number three? Or will it remain number three? :-)
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you Teresa- I think Rosehill memories will make a few more blog posts, being so ingrained in my imagination. Number Three might get a name, one day, when we are all settled in :-)

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

E, That Was Funny

Spring Is Ticking