The eve of 33

I’m sitting here on the eve of my 33rd birthday waiting for orange syrup to reduce down before I crawl up in bed to read another chapter of Optimism by Bob Brown. A book that so far at the start of chapter 34 has had me laughing, crying, smiling, sobbing and pondering.

I have pondered many times over the past years, the updates required to this little blog on my little corner of the interwebs. When you no longer update the blog regularly (hello Instagram) should you do big catch up posts on the miscellany that is my life or should I just post random snippets of this life? It then of course all becomes too hard and the number of unpublished drafts increases in numbers and the pages in my various notebooks that contain my thoughts increase. Please, click here to continue reading πŸ™‚ “The eve of 33”

nectarines in summer.

It is summer at the moment. Matthew is working at a new fruit shop. They get the best stone fruit, actually they get some of the best fruit in general, I have started to eat mangos this summer as well, as the ones they get taste just right. I love stone fruit in general but Nectarines are so good in that you don’t need to peel them first.

Eating a nectarine is such an enjoyable moment. Standing on the front verandah leaning over the railing you listen and watch suburbia around you, a dog in the next street is barking, a car drives up the street, the son next door is channelling his inner heavy metal self. You however have only one concern at that present moment and that is the ripe nectarine you hold between the thumb and forefinger of your left hand. As you raise it to your lips, your mouth automatically opens anticipating that sweet flesh. There is that split fraction of time when the nectarine is in your mouth but the skin is still unbroken and you are overwhelmed with desire to close your jaw firmly, breaking that reddish skin, eager to get to that brilliant yellow flesh that awaits you. As your teeth break the skin, your can feel the first trickle of juice hitting your taste buds and the rest of the world is truly forgotten. For the next period of time, you have only one concern and that is savouring that nectarine bite for bite till you have sucked the last piece of flesh off the stone and licked your fingers clean of that juice. Your stomach is placated for a while until a few hours later you feel the urge to have another nectarine. This time however the rain has arrived and instead of leaning over the railing, you lean over the kitchen sink instead and repeat what you did before.