1. To walk further into the woods than we’d gone before and find exciting things.
2. The newly exposed seeds glisten as I walk down the garden. Russet heads peck at the garish pink flesh.
3. The rhythm of combing sends us both into a meditative state. The Simpsons run unwatched in the background.
1. I am alone in the meadow. Except for the dog sniffing the grass. And the cat slowly baking in the sunshine. And the crickets chirping their alarm at our presence. And the dragonflies – the largest I’ve ever seen here – racing about over head. And the butterflies dancing over the thistles. And the bugs the baking cat is watching. And the woodpigeons softly cooing their five notes riff. I am not alone in the meadow.
2. I had forgotten how much the suit suits him.
3. I pick up my crochet hook for the first time in months – I can’t stand the feel of woolly yarn in my hands in the summer months – and begin a new project. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed it.
1. Around the time of her usual lunchtime walk, her tail starts wagging even though the rest of her is dozing on the sofa. “It’s a warm-up, like stretching,” I tell John.
2. The boxes are coloured to indicate who they’re for – the big cat, the little cat or the dog. The colours – rich raspberry, burnt orange and cool purple – are contrasting complements, and until I see them together in the bag, I didn’t realise spot-on flea treatment packaging could be so pretty.
3. It takes a while for the smell to reach me – the sweet scent frying onions and the garlic – but when it does, I suddenly develop an appetite.
1. The rollmops – pickled herring – are perfect: neither too fishy or too vinegary, just sweet and tangy.
2. I sit on the steps up to the door of our old house and pull grass seeds and sticky buds from the dog’s ears, tail and feathering. I feel nostalgic for all the time I spent on the steps with the cats – a favoured grooming spot but also just a favoured sitting spot in fair weather. As much as I can’t wait to be rid of it, to not have to think about it any more, I’ll be sad when we have to say goodbye to the house – my home for a decade – for the last time. One day, I’m going to make a scale model/dolls’ house of it so I don’t forget the good times there.
3. Re-reading ‘Drop City’ by TC Boyle yet again. I find new things to cherish each time through. “…stone light of dawn” is a phrase that sticks with me this time.
(Well, actually, during the night/before my alarm went off to start the day, but that “before breakfast” has got a better ring to it.)
1. When it is dark: the world is as silent and still as I’ve ever heard it her. No wind in the trees, no traffic noise, no birds or animals making noises in the woods. The whole world is asleep (except me).
2. When it is dawn: even without my glasses, I can see the eruption on the horizon. Above the treeline, the whole sky turns red.
3. When it is daylight: in what feels like the blink of an eye, the red disappears and is replaced by brilliant blue, dotted with white fluffy clouds. Often when I wake in the early morning like this, the sky is like this – a kid’s drawing of a perfect summer sky – and as always, I momentarily consider getting up to enjoy it, but then, on cue, I fall asleep again.
© 2024 Louisa Parry