As I type, a queen wasp is circling inside the light shade. White washing dangles damp from the clotheshorses: it has been fetched in from flails of chill wind and waning flares of sun. Indoors, it has been warm enough to wake a high-ranking wasp.
The fire is not even lit, because the flue is choked with wood ash.
We resorted to electric heat to keep Little Granddaughter cozied up this morning.
She runs around the living room, condensing meaning into strings of single words. Doggle: meaning this in some way relates to Dog. Mow: meaning this in some way relates to Cat. Nam-ma: meaning Granma there is a job for you to do here. Down: abandon the coffee cup, there is important other stuff to do. Yeh-plea: what children have to say to be obeyed.
I hand her toast in a plastic bowl. She looks at me, says phonetically:
A satisfied nod: the expected answer.
There was no dialogue to be had with the wasp.
|Nam-ma! Meaning: my hands are cold, sort it out!|