Were you around
yesterday when I was feeling all calm, and soothed, and
Zen?
It was nice – it was peaceful and very non-confronting…
That was yesterday.
Today was more… sharp-edged and IN YOUR FACE.
Note the absence of the beauteous form of the bottle tree – above you can see the harshness and brittle branches of a dead tree. I took this photo as I waited at the bus stop yesterday for my firstborn. It would be an omen of my afternoon…
…
Dash attends a one-teacher school about 15km from Granite Glen – one brave young man teaches 19 children from Prep through to Year 7 (ages 4-12). How he does this I have no idea… it’s a minor miracle I reckon. Dash provides our patient teacher with plenty of challenges along the way (not being really naughty as such, just displaying an astonishingly short attention span). He’s one of just 6 boys in the school, so gets way too much female attention, and I think the teacher is so relieved to have another male around that Dash gets plenty of leeway. Time will tell whether this is a good thing.
…
TLW loves to go to the bus to get Dash – its a short drive (approx 1 km) and she gets to read the books in the Prado til he arrives. We got to the turnaround beside the road early and settled back to listen to the Dixie Chicks and read a little. I had packed a special afternoon tea of cinnamon rolls (
a la The Pioneer Woman) and coffee (for me and SSB) and biscuits and milk (for kids). We were to pick up Dash then head down the paddock (about 10km) for afternoon smoko in the paddock with my darling husband and father of my tribe-of-two.
…
Another pickup mum arrived as we waited at the bus stop, and we chatted. Then the bus arrived (a little white Coaster driven by another mum) and decanted the small avalanche of schoolkids. Dash gets VERY tired by the end of a schoolday and it usually takes someone just looking the wrong way at him to send him into an attack of the sads.
Burrs in his sandals and saying goodbye to his little gang did it this time.
“Whaaaaa! Mum I’m dying!”
(Dash has bit of a dramatic flair)
Time to cut and run.
I said farewell to the other pickup mum and waved her off. I turned the key on the Prado.
Click.
Turned it again.
Click, click. Snap.
“Oh sweet Lord” I said (or something like that).
The battery was apparently dead and the key was broken.
…
I tried calling SSB on the two-way radio – nothing. The battery was definitely out. I went to get the coffee (to help me think in this spiky situation) I had packed in a carry esky, to find it had spilled all through the cinammon rolls and onto the floor of the car.
I looked back down the road to home. It suddenly looked a lot longer than 1 km.
TLW hadn’t had a nap and was cranky, Dash was in tears and SSB was waiting for us.
Dear Sweet Lord…
…
So we walked… Luckily for me, some native wildlife scurried across the road to distract from this bout of tears. Can you see?
These emus seem to live around the bus stop area – in a next-door neighbours paddock, and while they are strange creatures, they are much more nervous of us than we of them.
Strange but Groovy… my sharp-edged afternoon softened for a moment or two.
We even negotiated the grid safely and with the salt-water droplet count still relatively low. TLW’s borrowed thongs were proving difficult for power walking however, and her tolerance for her mother hurrying her up was low. This was still only about 400m into the walk…
Dash was getting sick of waiting for his sister and decided to skip ahead. Tears ensued.
Both Dash and I tried to convince TLW that it would be easier walking where there weren’t corrugations in the road. She would have none of it (did someone say stubborn? I think she takes after a certain aunt!). At this point I decided to walk ahead and call SSB from the house two-way. Tears ensued.
And being the cruel, cruel mother that I am, I kept walking. And then I took time to take a photo of my child wailing and walking.
What kind of woman am I?
(Rhetorical question…Don’t answer that!)
…
SSB did answer the call and come home to rescue the situation. He hardly complained at all about being interrupted from his afternoon’s work. We piled into the ute and went to diagnose the Prado. And do you know what happened?? Can you guess, cause it’s spiky and definitely un-Zen-like…
SSB climbed in, held the broken key just so, and the bloody thing started first go!
Sweet Lord! (or something like that)
He smiled at me, in a kind of ‘there you go, dear – just needed to try once more’ kind of way.
I said ‘thanks darling’. But inside I was saying: Humphhhh!
Ungrateful woman that I am… Sigh.
…
Now I need you to know that we found another key. And that the Prado clicked again when I tried it. Then it started. Damned thing doesn’t like me! What was that?? Oh…
Breathe….
Oh, OK. Thanks.
Dash was getting sick of waiting for his sister and decided to skip ahead. Tears ensued.
6 Comments
debby
Oh. I understand now. Zen moments are fleeting and rare. I did not laugh at all (much) while reading this. I relate. Last summer, during a torrential downpour, I was working in the woods. I leapt from my truck to do something, and then went to jump back in and the automatic locks had locked. The key was safely in the ignition. The spare key (because this had happened once before) was in the pocket of a sweatshirt laying the floor of the truck. Ye gods. No cell service and I had quite a walk in the aforementioned downpour before I found a house with people. It actually turned out to be a fascinating day.
Pencil Writer
Man! What a challenge. Little ones often don’t see the wonder in challenges. Heck! What am I saying?! I often don’t see the wonder in challenges–at least not for some period of time when I can look back and go, “Oh! Wow. I see how I’d do differently now.”
Of course, it might be 20 or 30 years later when I come to realize that! I am sorry there were so many hills to climb that day. You still have some very cute kids–even when whineing (and yes, I know that’s not the correct spelling, it just looks better to me. HaHa.) Have a GREAT (much better) day today!
intrepidideas
Thank You so much for your visit and comment on my Australia post! I’m thrilled to hear from you. Naturally, I couldn’t resist the name “Bush Babe” after my post. So tell me, How many of those brown snakes do you see in a year? Enjoy and do visit again! I’ll be back often.
Alyson
Bush Babe, I’m so glad you didn’t say ‘and then he wedged the gear stick PROPERLY into park, and the damn truck started,’…I was waiting for it, because that’s what I did, and you sound so much like me with the Dixie Chicks and the cinnamon scrolls. Only thing is you are much more gracious when your bloke sorts you out – I get a cats bum mouth and sulk. Nice.
Bush Babe (of Granite Glen)
Thanks all for your kind words… I have to say I was feeling very ungracious yesterday! I’m glad I’m not the only doofus around the ridges (not that i’m calling my faithful readers names of course!). I tried REAL hard to see the “wonder in the challenge” but admit I was stretched in that particular endeavour at the time. Suffice to say that no children sustained long-term damage from the adventure (at least til they can read this!). And Mr Interpid – pleased to see a male of the species visiting – I aim to enlighten both city and international visitors in the ways of the bush… watch this space!
Cheers
BB
PS NO, Alyson, the gearstick wasn’t out of gear – but that does a bit like something I might do! Now I’ll worry about that too…
jeanie
Oh no darling! As you can tell I have not been near a computer in days (for some extremely unzen reasons) and now I see this sad, sad tale.
I was thinking the park problem too – it has caught me out in the past – but to break the key is to be a tad dramatic.
I don’t think your daughter has to look very far for her dramatics, and linking them to an obscure relative is just very unzen!
(But I love you regardless!)
Hmm – google still doesn’t recognize me, so I could be very incognito here… But I won’t, because you don’t need a mystery on top of all your problems.