So today I bravely went where everyone had blithely gone before me - Bunnings. It was time to work on the outside of the house now that I had the internals up to scratch. Again, no one social distanced! The daughter rang me to see if I was ok. She was going later in the day and was weighing it up whether it was worth the risk. I said so far, so good. But then people seemed to appear out of nowhere. I found an aisle with no one in it and hung out there. I bought outdoor lights that I probably didn't need: in reality I had come for inside bulbs. That aisle was jam packed. I returned home.
The daughter came back from her shop with indoor plants, seeds and a tub of kale which she happily planted only to discover the next morning that they had been consumed by some hungry insect or animal , just empty stalks remaining. It felt symbolic. A bit like our aborted year abroad. The delicious leafy bits disappearing, leaving us with the stalk of what might have been. And so the daughter sets up a little nursery. Every day on the kitchen sill bits of cut off vegetables appear in glasses of water, plants broken off on walks in jars, no sourdough starter at our place - yet.
Next job was to find a rug for my art room which is the coldest in the house. I searched online and found nothing to my liking and then had a brainwave - I could make one! I have downloaded Amish spirit. I had seen one on Pinterest made of recycled material scraps. I have Youtubed a video of it. As I was watching it, I could smell a mixture of scents arising from downstairs. At some point during the day, a box of candle making equipment had been delivered. The daughter had unpacked and was already in the process of creation. A candle had been made. The day before another box had arrived, various natural skin products were being assembled in my bathroom. She described what they were going to do and looking intently at my skin as she spoke, diagnosed dryness and suggested she order some more for my mother's day present. I shall have hydration as my gift for birthing her.
I went back to my video of rug making and then could hear a grinding sound. She'd asked me the day before if I had a mortar and pestle. I hadn't asked many questions, just went to the art room to get it. Yes, I kept it there from my silver clay jewellery making days. I ground the left over silver with it to form a powder which I could mix with lavender oil to reuse. I cleaned it for her and asked why she needed it. She was making her own incense balls. Of course she was. Like mother, like daughter. Witches at heart, both.
This is the corner of my bedroom where I sit and ponder amidst my vintage finds, on my favourite Ikea chair.
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