The following was inspired by yet another brunch experience where I found that my honey will not remain on the slice of bread, but insists on zooming to the edges and taking a dive onto plate, fingers, clothes, and anywhere else the force of gravity allows.
When you spread
Some on bread
It will head
Strange to me
One won’t see
It run free
From the bee?
This morning, a berg wind was wafting lightly and warmly before it died, and so young R took the day off from playschool and she and I and ecstatic (and terribly vocal) pooches spent the morning on the beach. We swam amongst the fish in rock pools, I swam in the waves, she played in the sand, and we studied sundry crabs and a bullia which refused to come out to show her the ‘spade’ body.
There were virtually no shells, but dogged persistence had me locating this colourful one, shown with the finds of the previous expedition.
This afternoon, the Cape kindly sent us a lovely westerly buster which blew everything everywhichway as it brought in the cold front. Very soon, it seemed to be a good idea to don some clothing again – and then, a bit more.
Although, it is currently not too chilly as the wind has gone down again.
© July 2012 Colonialist (WordPress/Letterdash)