Nullity

Difficult to rise to the challenge seizing something now. Well-practised as you were, alert and eyes peeled, exceedingly difficult. The other evening the kitchen window had presented a Zen scene—glistening new leaves on the plum framed by the worn old architrave. Surprisingly, a good number of the plantings here had taken, testament to the years of chooks and other nutrients in the former vegetable gardens. There had been no rain; the spray of lustre had been carried by the new growth and the unusual last bright shafts of dusk. Up in the village new Spring grasses among the rock nemogu se gledat, could not be observed, so sharp was the green. This on the other hand was titillation and caress by comparison: leaves flaring like uncanny flames. (Recently ailing Al in Williamstown had recalled Bab’s remark about everything young being beautiful.) Could the sight be captured by a camera? The porch light was flicked just in case. Highly un-Zen-like running hither and to when the standing form had only been glimpsed briefly. Many afternoons now the lower river and the bay was passed largely unseen; the creek likewise for all the pelicans and swans. Continuing publications lifted the spirits hardly at all. There was little will for the messaging of the girls back on the Equator, even the one you were supposed to love who had been resisting all manner of solicitation, engagement ring included (an old roué like you). She will/she won’t/will/won’t. Maybe to escape her “toxic mother,” she had offered at one point with too much information. After one hundred days of lockdown liberalisation was likely next week, an opportunity to see some familiar faces and possibly short café sitting. In recent days the heart core who had passed seemed somehow to have receded further too; an unexpected added distancing coming with age. How much the glancing encounters and interactions always figured; you knew you were going bad when the shop assistants had become valueless too. Confinement to the room and back garden had become preferable to cycling the suburban grid in order to reach the open spaces by the riverside and the bay. One saving grace was the lingering chill, sorely missed so long. There was no doubt about it, pedalling against the battering of the wind had come to be relished.