The trouble with being home so much is that I’m a sitting target for anyone who wants food. And suddenly, it seems as though everyone wants food, all the time.
Indoors, the twinnage want a snack. The answer is mostly ‘no’ because we’re being cautious with our supplies. Also they had a stonking big lunch about three seconds ago. So I offer them a lecture about how snacks weren’t even invented when I was a lass, and they roll their eyes and ask whether dinosaurs were around in my youth. By the time I’ve finished this well-worn lecture, they’ve usually given up and wandered off. Result!
Outdoors, Robyn-the-robin pesters me for food, too. And my tiny conscience pesters me to feed the hedgehog and throw an occasional snack to the mostly-self-sufficient sticklebacks. I can’t wait until the various crops I’ve planted reach maturity, so I can just tell everyone to go and forage. Until then, there’s half a packet of chocolate bourbons in the cupboard AND IF I FIND ANY CRUMBS ON THE TABLE, THEN EVERYONE IS GOING TO GET A REALLY DISGRUNTLED LOOK. THIS TIME I MEAN IT, OK?!
But how are you? Not being too hard on yourself, I hope? One day, all of this will be in the past, and we’ll look back on 2020 as the year when everything stopped, and the world turned itself upside down and shook itself about a bit until all the toilet rolls fell out.
We’re doing fine, other than worry about loved ones (my parents will not stop going to shops, despite our offers of deliveries), and a lack of success on the homeschooling front.
The Stoic Spouse is going in to work as usual, but as of a few days ago, I’m working from home, contacting patients by phone rather than seeing people face-to-face. We’re both running a lot, keeping carefully away from other people.
Crazy times, huh? But whilst humanity has paused, nature at this time of year has Stuff To Do. Our garden may be small, but man is it busy. So many types of bee. The bumble bees wiggle their fluffy bottoms enthusiastically as they discover each new flower. Other more serious-looking bees hover zen-like above the lawn, moving reluctantly every time some clumsy human lurches past. And there are bee-flies, aspiring hummingbirds trapped in an insect’s body:-
Dress for the species you want to be, not the species you are, they seem to say, and who can argue with that? (It’s the reason I wear this unicorn horn.)
And then, one of the twinnage found a bee on the ground, that was missing most of one wing. Both of my boys love wild creatures so now, it seems, we have a pet bee, whose name is apparently Smoothy.
Does anyone know what type of bee Smoothy is? We’ve set up a small tank with soil, planted with daisies and violets, and a tiny dish of sugar water. Smoothy seems fine, but the poor thing keeps trying to groom its missing wing.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: thank goodness for knitting. We can survive this.