Making their way either to centre or curb… lopsided beetles stretching a foreleg in a stayed moment: big furry caterpillars and their flurry of well-ordered legs: load-laden ants: orange bellied creepers: lumbering slow beetles with oil-on-water-rainbow backs: hasty bright green kamikazi caterpillar: (maladjusted, unpaintable, squished slug): butterflies in Brownian motion (haphazard dance of gas molecules if you avioded chemistry) around my handle bars: wagtails binking and dipping just ahead of me: minute frogs on maiden voyage across tarmac, then clambering and tumbling over huge grasses:
It only takes the slightest shift of weight to direct Sir Galahad around these entertaining dare devils… sudden sharp steering would spell disaster… so I enjoy the hair’s breadth between my tyres and my tiny heroic fellow travellers.
I hope the big traffic continues to consider me with such care!
As I rode to the market in Kisa this morning, having just painted some of my small friends, I found myself back in kindergarten, singing “all things bright and beautiful” and remembering sitting, aged 4, cross-legged on the floor beneath a huge paper scroll with the words unfurling before us. Miss Sutton, our head teacher was a fierce lady with a fierce pointer and deep, weathered cleavage from long years of dedicated exposure. Under this rather crinkly exterior beat a very warm and lively heart, so that by the time I was a big girl of 11, she was an inspiring and wonderful teacher not to be crossed, but not to be feared.
Earlier this morning in Björk Fors I played some of the opus 109 variations on a slightly stunted piano (6 octaves ) for my youngest audience yet. 3 to 5 year olds in their kindergarten. Of course, we found grasshoppers leaping, the giants were having a race, the lake fairy made waves upon the water and the angels came to put us to bed….
This is indeed a most beautiful area, of wood, rocks and trees… even the echo of voices across the lake. I have stopped for a rest, to paint, write and BE!