There’s a lamb in the garden. She’s been there all week. She had a belly full of worms and a drench came a few days late for her. She’d been down and lost an eye to an opportunistic crow and she’s now so weak she doesn’t have the strength to get to her feet. Yet when one of us stands her up she persists in pulling at the grass. Last week Jim brought her mob in to be drenched. We’ve had a real battle with worms this year, they thrive in a season like this when the ground never dries out. 98% of the mob were healthy, but there was a handful that had gone downhill. The lamb in the garden, was one of those.
My week has been chaotic. As far away from The Sit Spot calm as you can possibly get. On Wednesday, for example, I typed letters, attended a 90 minute writing workshop zoom meeting, cleaned the cottage and made up beds, squeezed a quick ride in on Frank because it was a beautiful day, typed more letters, stood the lamb up at least six times, tidied up my manuscript ready to print it off and fell into bed but not before setting alarm for 4am zoom meeting on Thursday to learn more about newsletters (of all things). Tabs open on my computer range from Glossary of Sheep Husbandry through to Can Attachment Theory Explain our Relationships. I read somewhere (I couldn’t tell you where) that leaping from one object of attention to another is exhausting for the brain and nervous system. All week anxiety has circled.
Every day J and I take it in turns to find the lamb, (who is quite mobile when it is on all four legs), and check if it’s up, and if it is not we stand it up. Every day it’s getting a little stronger. The discipline of remembering. The forced break from what I am typing, reading, writing, thinking, is somehow the only clear memory of this week.
My friend calls us twitchers (not as in the bird nerds but as in those who are a little more finely tuned to the clanging catastrophe of life). She can recognise a fellow twitcher on sight. I think by the time we get to midlifish we should be on top of it, know the danger signs, know what to do when it starts getting a bit much, when the nausea stays with you rather than flashes through you. For me I need to throw myself in the water and feel the shock of cold reset my nervous system. But this week has been so busy I’ve forgotten to carve out the time.
This morning when I checked the lamb it was right down in the far corner of the garden. As I walked to stand it up a small flock of tiny thornbills grazed their way across the lawn. In the tangle of grapevine a family of superb blue wrens filled the air with their chatter - the patriarch’s impossible blue a flare of defiance against the grey winter day. A cranky fantail performed loops of ariel daring.
An hour or so later I walked out again and was greeted by the two swallow pairs who chose to over winter here. They chide me from the bare wisteria. Above the slow shadow of a sea eagle slid across the sun. An eastern spinebill dipped its curved beak into the rampant jasmine that flowers here in early winter. Then it’s late afternoon when I push open the back door and the semi tame currawong let’s drop a ripple of bell-like notes into the clear, golden afternoon.
All this to check a lamb who wants to live. Slow down, slow down, the world shouts at me. I unblock my ears and listen.
mmx
Reading
I’ve read two extraordinary books about the body. I told you last week about Jessie Cole’s Desire, a reckoning, but then in Hobart for 2 seconds (dentist) I ran into Fullers to buy a novel and instead walked out with Justy Phillips impossible to categorize fragmentary, poetic, memoir, essay, other? Ringed by Language. And Yet. It’s a history of her heart. It’s also an exquisite examination of how our bodies hold trauma. These two books read side by side spoke to each other in that fabulous way that you can’t plan. Jessie’s is a more traditional memoir, a carefully paced story of trauma and desire. It’s immediate and I couldn’t put it down. Jesse is a skilled writer, her descriptions of the forest and her body and the way she uses slippage between these places of safety and danger was exhilarating and challenging. Justy’s book is for those of you who love white on the page, who want language to hook you and swing you up and down until you are in a brutal place (if you need a linear narrative then it’s not for you). Both of these books are a reckoning. My friend Meg Bignell’s book arrived in the post too! It couldn’t be more timely. It’s out next week! It’s called The Angry Women’s Choir. It’s totally different in tone and texture to the above, but it has the most wonderful cast of characters. It’s a book for the moment. You’ll laugh, be furious, be seen and you’ll probably cry. I’ve had to stop myself falling down a rabbit hole of Roe v Wade commentary. What a tragic day for American women, especially the poor and vulnerable. Here’s an incredible essay from the frontline in Texas. This article by Jio Tolentino is brilliant and horrible. And this on the relevancy of the Supreme Court on the other side was also excellent. In an attempt to bring our moods back up, please enjoy Trumpet the Bloodhound and winner of Best in Show at Westminster this year.
Listening
Lily Allen and Olivia Rodrigo belting out Fuck You to the SCOTUS at Glastonbury was impassioned, defiant and hopeful. Our Ads (Adam Buxton for all who are yet to join the fan club) interviewed British superstar Yola. I love it when he interviews across generations. A really generous exchange.
Writing
Too much. But my manuscript will be sent back to Sydney on Friday.
Doing
Planted the garlic. Only a week late. And on the way home from the dentist I met a friend at Bellerive and courtesy of another friend in Byron Bay we got the hottest tip in Hobart because honest to goodness we had the best sandwich I think I’ve ever eaten. It’s called Local Panini and I am now doing my Hobart shopping at the supermarket next door just so I can go back.
Tim Cope once came to our little Primary School in Thorpdale, and he had 2 sayings from his Trek across the steppe that he shared with the school kids. Trust in fate, but tie up the camel and if you must rush, rush slowly. It has stayed with me. I am an absolute terror but wanting things done yesterday. I try to rush slowly x P.S I currently have 15 orphan lambs that wanted to live - I am also trying desperately to see the good in that haha!
I will think of your lamb as I feel “Crumbly” this week. I have often drawn on animals I’ve known or seen for some inspiration! They don’t have any props like we do… painkillers, antidepressants, T/A meals to order!! On the other hand I’ve seen some animals without the capacity to fight also. Do you think it’s innate for us both?
I felt tired after reading your agenda!
Thank you for your inspiring stories for us all.
🌼