23 August 2016

Classic mistake. I went back to work because I wanted to show my superhuman commitment and let everybody think what an obviously  tough and dedicated person I am but also because of cabin fever setting in and frankly, because I miss work and for a while I thought I could pretend it's all down to willpower and taking control and just doing it.
Of course it is not, what on earth was I thinking, and so here I am, the stranded beetle once again, trying to remain cool and calm and composed and carefree about the variety of new symptoms. Obviously, I could write about them endlessly but right now I just want to let them be.
So then, so there, so what - as we tend so remark in this family before we move on to our next mistake.

The summer is entering its seedy phase when you stop caring about the flower beds overgrowing with weeds and no longer brush away the spider nets between the garden chairs. The first apples are falling off the tree, there are masses of blueberries, R is shaking the hazel bushes every evening collecting handfuls, the blackbirds are eating the grapes and someone's cat has started to shit on our lawn. Or maybe a hedgehog. Never mind, go right ahead. We know this is going to be over soon enough. Hot sun on your skin, warm wind in the evening, open windows at night. In a few weeks, the spiders will be dust and we will wear long sleeved garments again. I even may be able to recover some semblance of health and fitness. Alternatively, I may find myself without a job and will start making quilts and read that silly meaningful book on how to reorganise your wardrobe with the sock rolled up in a peculiar colour coded way.

The butterfly larvae ate their way to fat green and black caterpillars before turning into shiny hard grey chrysalises speckled with a line a golden dots. There are now hanging almost motionless inside their habitat (a mesh cage) until some time maybe this week or next week they will mysteriously unfold their magic wings and teach us a thing or two about beauty.

It's amazing, isn't it, how all this goes on around me, just waiting for me to notice and be surprised and awed.

Outside there's children laughing
The radio plays my favourite song
The sun is shinning
Oh and peace broke out in the world
And no-one says a cruel word
And peace is the sweetest sound I've ever heard



Ms. Moon said...

This truly is the most fecund time of year in so many ways. So many plants and creatures getting in that last burst of activity which will ensure their species' continuation.
I am so sorry you are having new symptoms. Darling- it would seem you'd had them all by this point but the body's ability to torture us is endless, isn't it?
Quilts are nice. Forget that book.

Elizabeth said...

I love the way you write and how you wind around and take us along. I'm sorry that you struggled going back to work -- and that you are showing new symptoms. but I hope if you lose your job or have to leave it, you will avoid that silly mondo kondo book and surround yourself with all that you love.

Steve Reed said...

I love the pupae! So fascinating. Bugs really are incredible. What species of butterfly are these? I hope you share pictures of the mature creatures. I'm so sorry to hear about the resurgence of symptoms. I hope, like the butterflies, you will transform into another state of wellness. Oh, and I love your garden descriptions -- that's exactly the phase we're entering, too, where the garden begins to get seedy and overripe.

am said...

For some reason, the butterflies-to-be who appear sleeping with a partially eaten tortilla reminded me of Warren Zevon. My friend who is waiting for a kidney transplant and has just developed a persistent eye infection looks a little like Warren Zevon. Their sense of levity and gravity remind me of yours. He eats a lot of blueberries. Sending love, as always.


Sabine said...

We hope they are five Painted Ladies, orange and black mostly.

Anonymous said...

I love your description of the time of year and how your garden responds. Yes, here too. I've been dead-heading a few flowers, but mostly things are just going to seed. I can't wait to see your Painted Ladies. They are so beautiful. I hope you are feeling better. My mother says "hello Sabine!"

Colette said...

"So then, so there, so what - as we tend so remark in this family before we move on to our next mistake." I kinda love that.