His birthday today. We all had dinner last night and I left my phone behind, so we had coffee in Stirling today. Eclectic conversation punctuated with acorns tossed, with gusto, by the watching oak. The tree was decked with electric mangoes, incongruous sulphur lighting in a shady bower.
A prodigal caterpillar tractor is sought, together with attendant ploughs. Dublin is a quiet place, they are possibly still there. I can imagine them rattling across acreage again.
Plumbing and resolving paving and trees. We are both hankering for new fruit trees. Kim would like a quandong, I would like a mulberry, Dad really wants a fig, we are all thinking about settling on apricots; gentle and hardy with useful fruit.
Uncles and brothers are house wrangling. Travels are planned. Lindy has sea-horses and her email account has been pwn3d by Nigerians. A wedding and a recovery, friends passing through.
A large blue painting could be coming home after a long vacation. I painted it in highschool, a wildly blue icecave. Not sure if I will find it some wall space or rework the surface with older brushes.
The old harmonium waits in my loungeroom to see if it will be heading east to Lindy, or if Kim will be shopping for rubberbacked linen.
We will meet again at the concert next Sunday, the Mikado is missing a horn and a trumpet who can transpose on the fly. Will be the first time I have gone for some time, Susan is coming too which will be great. A time for many beginnings.
Polly waits, watching. We head home to the huddle of geeks making dummy loads in the back shed. The girls and I find a warm corner and share a book. Comfortable words and resonant themes, furry sanctuary.