It's pouring with rain as I write this - rain that follows heat, rain that feeds the garden but not cold rain because the terasa doors are still open.
The only way we can get through this isolation (and by 'we' I mean 'I') is to have routine and purpose, and look at it in bite-sized pieces.
Routine - no yoga crew to join, but an hour out cycling, meandering around paths I haven't explored yet. Later, having spotted that Fresh Collective was open, i joined the queue looking for flour for mum - none, but found a nice banana loaf so that she didn't feel the need to shop. And after dropping the 'provisions' off, worried about who else had touched the fruit - and rang dad to tell him to wash the nectarines and bananas in warm soapy water. What are we coming too? We are witnessing history as it unfolds.
The front yard filled in a few hours, listening to yesterday's Kim Hill interviews (seriously want to be like her - she's so direct, so exacting but empathetic, so knowledgeable but so real).
Clipped edges, the last of the grapes handed to the neighbour's kids, the lawns mowed, even though the lawn is a brown smudge...
And then some sunning like a seal on the terasa, listening to Carole King because it is nostalgic and reminds me of the 80's when there were no pandemics.
Facebook is full of people sharing recipes so I've made beer bread care of Janeen at Rings. Divine.
Comments
Post a Comment