J the journey to juice

 

it rained steadily solidly all night.

knowing I had to work in the gallery this morning I wondered whether the track would be passable.

by the time dawn made its appearance the rain had stopped.

I heard the waking murmurs from the next room and within a second the door banged open

and Kingston with an armful of friends was at my side of the bed.

he thrust them at me -green sheep   tuatara    tigger    aunty dog  red dog and clambered in for a  snuggle.

‘tory is demanded.’ in a minute’ I say savouring  the closeness the smell .

we continue the adventures of Kingston John Wawaa (wallaby) and wombat .

today I introduced a tractor because he is a machine boy , working things he calls them .

John rolls over and says working things indignantly (I thought he was still asleep)

what about whale I want a whale story?

he gets out of bed to light stanley and whale takes us to meet a seal with a sore flipper.

 

there is no bread so I make chapatis – a mix of flour olive oil and water

roll them out and lay them on the top of stanley to cook .

I throw another piece of wood into the firebox and jiggle the kettle around to get a boil happening.

whenever I make chapatis I wonder why I ever do the bread thing

because flatbreads made in the moment with their endless possible variations are just the ants pants.

Kingston rolls his own but graciously allows me to cook it .

he lathers on the butter and then the blackberry jam.

‘You helped mummy and me pick these blackberries’ I remind him.’

‘and Carole ‘ he pipes up.

‘yes Carole did help and remember she was worried that you were going to eat them all.’

‘mmmnn’

 

‘what about a fresh squeezed orange juice ‘ I ask him trying to lure him out of the cool room which is kinda like a cubby for him?

‘good idea’ and he pulls the big stainless steel squeezer  off the pantry shelf and carries it out to the kitchen table.

‘ this is even hebier than the chickpea machine ‘ he informs us.

I cut the oranges in half – he puts  half in place and pulls the lever down – with a few repeated pulls and a bit of pressure he turns the orange into juice and drinks it.

smacks his lips- asks for another one .

then it is over and he decides to wash up –

drags a chair over to the sink and splashes around for a while.

 

building the blocks of living skills.

building a base of adventure mystery and loving kindness.

building a platform from which he will  spring off into his own journey.

it is a long way from here – from three and a half and we have no idea where he will go

but we do know

that he will take all this with him.

 

 

 

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Author: faeriembassy

the faerie embassy is my home space,a beautiful mudbrick castle in a richly diverse forest. which means I am very passionate about wallabies and pythons and mist spiders and twisted angophoras and the sound of the wind and the feel of the rain . we are an ark ,an island of light, a beacon of common sense in a crazy out of control consumption mad world.we have a composting toilet for goddess sake.

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