Skip to main content

Yes!

A fabulous granma wears leopard print and walks with her cute little grandchldren up a muddy track. There are tractor tyre marks in the mud. It's lightly raining.

June’s weather has been issued in short spells: sunny-dry, sunny-drizzle, cloudy, downpour, rainbows, humid, might-rain-might-be-blowy. Washing is on the line to dry or to get an extra rinse. Roses bloom, and when I get a chance to check the polytunnel there are tomato plants rising, the strawberries and nasturtiums are zooming over the path, the lovage has doubled.
When I get to the land, with Mr, Old Dog, and grandchildren 6 & 7 (aged 4 and 3 respectively) there are tracks through it. This is magic to all of us: we, the adults who instructed this progress and fully expected to see it, and the children to whom this is pure surprise. Knowledge is no impediment to murmuring ‘wow’ and savouring the press of our boots into bare earth as we wander up through the fickle mizzle. I see the levelled area which will become an outdoor kitchen: it’s mud and scraped nettle root and it makes my heart boom YES THIS IS IT!
We walk to the top field to admire the yellow digger, the huge blue tractor. We mark the occasion with photographs, but then the grown-ups get talking.
Two cute children sit high up in a tall tractor, thrilled with themselves. They are waving.

The little ones break free from my hands. It’s sunny now and they run down through the meadow and are lost in the blonde swish. When they reemerge Grandchild 6 has her t-shirt pulled up so the grass can tickle her belly. Grandchild 7 has lost and found his wellies, his socks and trousers are soaked, an unimportant detail to him. (We are relieved not to be on a boot hunt.)
They chase butterflies, they rescue a slug lest a crow eats it, they hang on the carved up chunks of felled ash!- which is a bicycle but also a horse and a nest.
Two cute children perch on large chunks of cut down tree, they are engrossed in play

I follow, watching them at play, vaguely thinking: so random, but connected. In the moment and timeless. It’s what you know plus magic. Deliberate creation that works with the raw materials, there’s a flow.
This is going somewhere. 
This is the adventure. Sometimes it gets hidden in work but-
YES THIS IS IT

Labels:

Comments

Damyanti Biswas said…
I love the images you've picked. It says so much about the bond with your grandchildren :)
11 June 2022 at 10:32
Steve Cromwell said…
A big change from a big tractor! And this sums up so much of childhood: "chunks of felled ash!- which is a bicycle but also a horse and a nest."
13 June 2022 at 02:33
Lisa Southard said…
Sharing this adventure with our family is awesome :-) xx
15 June 2022 at 18:24
Lisa Southard said…
Imagination magic :-) And yes, that is a flippin' big tractor!
15 June 2022 at 18:25
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