Adventures of me, Lisa Southard: writer, gardener, forager, care worker, Tae Kwon-Do Instructor, Granma, and co-owner of 5 acres of pasture. Dreams take work!
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
The Wishbone Alphabet – an experiment, of course, with attitude, life and the eponymous soup. A ppreciation is something to be practised at every opportunity like pelvic floor exercises and every bit as useful. Since today the A-Z theme is in its infancy I shall demonstrate using an A word, and I choose the obvious apple. I happen to have some home grown russets, stored in my fridge over winter, but one bought from a shop is absolutely acceptable. My apple is: wrinkly from long storage, rough leathered light brown skin, a bit of stalk where it was once attached to the tree. It fills my palm, the chilled weight of it, I can imagine it falling from the branch to the grass; thumping on the ground, rolling down the orchard slope till it catches and settles in uneven turf. It has an earthy scent till I cut it, on the chopping board, under the sharpened steel blade of the vegetable knife. Opened apple fragrance is fresh and light, acidic sweet, faintly sour. The flesh of
From dreamt adventures, retrieve one line only: ‘If I were made of fire, this is where I would sleep.’ It’s good to start a day by intriguing yourself. Shower in the company of one spindly spider, which presses its face repeatedly to the wet tile surface, also intriguing: thirsty, saying spider prayers, frustrated, or trying not to look at the naked mammalian giant? Coffee is made. It is a pot of the last of the Trung Nguyen. A fine mist makes a horizon of mountainous island shapes, with squinted eyes I can just about create the illusion of Halong Bay. From intrigue to reverie, wander down to the Mekong Delta, wearing a superb hat. Today also (it is going well so far) brings more accolades for my Wishbone words; thank you Pins and Needles http://pinsandneedlesworcester.blogspot.co.uk/ (Who does sell some cute stuff on etsy, if you were wondering, have a peek: http://www.etsy.com/shop/sueavery ) The first four rules of the Versatile Blogger award are easily in my stride, the last
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