I can't believe I'm about to write this.
I've been swanning around the house all morning, thinking poetic thoughts, trying to decide which of the worthy topics I should blog about today.
I was going to write about my take on envroinmentalism, and what I'm doing to lessen my impact on the earth.
I was going to write about the fun we had at the Park last sunday, and the gorgeous weather we're having this autumn.
I was even going to write about food - my favourite recipes this week, what new things I'd like to try, and the fact that I'm hungry ALL THE TIME.
Craft was even going to get a mention - I actually managed to make a few wee things this week for the bubba. Not to forget the Ikea shopping we've been planning (in our heads).
And I chose poo.
I just have to get this experience out of my head. I was doing the dishes and heard the rumble coming from the highchair, where Ewan was happily demolishing a slice of pear all on his own (did I mention 4 wee sharp teeth have made an appearance in the last 2 weeks?) Thinks I, no worries, we were due for one of these. So I head on over to the change table, and discover it was one of those ones.
The nappies where you don't quite know where to start.
"SWEET CUPPIN' CAKES, BUBBA!" (That's not what I acatually yelled, but I don't want to post profanity.) "No, it's fine, I can do this... OH MY... " (discovering more and more..... you mamas know what I'm talking about - UP THE BACK).
At this point, Ewan thinks it'll be a great joke to play his newest trick on me - and flips over.
"NOOOOO!!!" (The neighbours must be wondering what's going on at this point)
Then - ooh, I better reach around and see what's going on here....
"BUBBA! YOUR HANDS!!! Oh dear Lord...."
So you get the idea. Yikes.
I'm off to wash both our hands again.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
...the woman is bending over her worktable, muttering quietly to herself. Her hands are busy with what, you cannot see. The sun shines through the open window above the table, striking the long braid down her back, throwing back golden red glints. She doesn't seem to notice anything outside that which holds her attention. A bee flies in through the window and wanders lazily through the warm air around her head. Raising a hand absently, she brushes the air beside her ear...
"Suscitatio aquilo, pulsus notos"
she murmurs as she works
The warm summers afternoon goes unnoticed, even as she straightens her back and seems to stare out the window, the honeyed sun bathing her face with warm colour. Her blue eyes are looking beyond what lies directly in front of them, lips pursed in thought. Her hands still from their work, and one rests on the table as the other reaches out to seemingly twine the sunbeams around her fingertips.
The herb-scented breeze teases her nose, and seems to bring her back to this world, her eyes fully open and gaze outside to the forested hillside, their cloudless blue reflecting the sky. The bee, finding no flowers from which to sup, ambles back towards freedom - the garden where the brightly bejeweled flora offer up their faces to kiss the sun, a golden promise of sweetness...