Skip to main content

Bee Bum







Words On Facing A Leap Of Faith 


Saturday 27th June, 2020
Heat has rolled us flat for a day or so, we are glad of the wind that is whipping clouds around, glad of the sudden dense showers. 

When I left for work, Mr was sat picking stalks off currants, outside under the gazebo. In between showers he is constructing a tarpaulin roof that will make an outdoor dojang (Tae Kwon-Do training venue) in our garden. [UPDATE: this design is back on the drawing board.] We are making enquiries about how to get water and power to a field we saw - which is scaring both of us because it is jumping into the unknown. Not love at first sight, this bit of land, but a realisation that this could be the one. If we don’t have a reason to veto, we are going to make an offer…
Have another lot of land to view, meanwhile, keeping options open. [UPDATE: that land was another faerie-world bit of impractical loveliness, to which we are currently immune.]
We are afraid but we are also saying, what else is there to do? This is our adventure.
Due diligence then JUMP.

Monday 29th June, 2020
Doing research and planning. Bit by bit or my brain will sizzle.
At work. Getting a break listening to podcasts (also trying to distract from client’s teeth-grinding habit.)
Brain at sizzle-point anyway.
This evening: started revamping blog in case it gets my writing discovered and I can attend to new found success instead.

[New intro for blog, in progress
‘Err… not able to concentrate right now. This is not going well. Will go lie down instead.’ UPDATE: wrote passable stuff, still not right.]

1st July 2020
Enquiries into ‘our’ field are good - contact made with dowser to check if a borehole would work -and bad - two other offers have been made. We are not equipped for a bidding war. The prospect of losing out gets disproportionate, gets tangled with grief and global insecurity. I had been escaping into this land. I don’t realise this till I take Dog for a bustle through the small woods. We go up to the oilseed field where butterflies are going bonkers in the afternoon sun. There are Red Admirals and The Brown Ones, soft as deer fur, and some with wings made of midnight. There I begin to see how the land fitted with one version of Our Adventure, and how I must trust that other versions could prevail.
Back at home I went to fetch stir-fry ingredients from the polytunnel, where I was treated to the vision of a bumbling bee’s backside sticking out of a nasturtium flower. This bee had struck out with a vision, with no guarantee. It was proactive in seeking, it was gently engrossed- yet with an air of nonchalance.
If we get this land, it will be terrifying but we must just go along with it.
If we don’t, some other adventure will be found. 






Labels:

Comments

Elephant's Child said…
Thank you for this beautiful , hopeful post (despite the fear and the challenges).
And I adore the bee butt.
1 July 2020 at 21:03
The Armchair Squid said…
First, I really like the new profile picture.

Also, that shot of the bee in the flower is amazing! Nicely done.

Best of luck with the land plot.
2 July 2020 at 15:06
Lisa Southard said…
The bee and its bum were just what I needed :-)
3 July 2020 at 08:34
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you - think the bee might have been a professional model - if we get the land I will be whooping! And the profile pic can stay for a while :-)
3 July 2020 at 08:38
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

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...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

A Glitch Or Two

My Chromebook has been crumbling. It seems a little like dementia, this inability to upgrade its powers of communication, it makes me sad, even for an object. It's one of the reasons my posts here have been put aside, that and generally being tumbled by tiredness. I have saved up money for a replacement, also I have spent that money on trees and shrubs. I have two novels to sort out however, and this will be the reason I save up again. I don't stop writing, even if I don't tell anyone. In the meantime should you need a calm place to go, I have begun a substack account. Please do drop by. If the kettle crumbles we can make tea (or soup) on the firepit. Me on substack:  Lisa Southard
Post a Comment
Read more