I decide it would probably be an excellent idea to send the Middle of the Darling Daughters an explanatory email. Otherwise, she will receive a small parcel from me containing five caterpillars and some caterpillar food
- and decide that her mother (that’ll be me, then) has finally taken leave of her senses. As in, any senses she, aka I, had left.
I have taken possession
of a Live Butterfly Garden. Without the butterflies. It was given me by the really rather wonderful Kay, who helps me keep my house in order. Kay is moving house and needs to de-clutter; coming across a Live Butterfly Garden in the process of de-cluttering,
she knew exactly the person to hand it on to. Yours truly, who else?
As it happens, I know about Butterfly Gardens because Margaret, who is a member of our Nomination
Whist Group, bought one for her granddaughter last year and showed us photos on her mobile phone of the miraculous transformation from caterpillar to chrysalis to Painted Lady Butterfly. I was thinking that I must try it out for myself but then, as happens,
I forgot all about it until yesterday morning when Kay unpacked a bag of bits and pieces for me including a magazine, a plastic container full of adornments for my Fairy Garden, a DVD about princesses for the Twinkles, an Angry Birds sun hat for The Rascal
(“give it to a charity shop if your daughter doesn’t want it”) - and the Butterfly Garden. Did I want it, even though I would need to go on-line to buy the caterpillars? Of course I would!
I am taking the Butterfly Garden with me when I visit The Trio and two of my Darling Daughters for a very welcome sleepover next week. While Mr B is in the capable, caring hands of the Lovely Louise, I will be chatting, sleeping,
drinking coffee in the conservatory and generally doing Nothing Much At All. It will be Bliss. Hopefully the caterpillars will have arrived before me so we can introduce them to their Garden together.
Some days are particularly happy days. Yesterday was one of these. I didn’t have Great Expectations first thing in the morning when I tumbled downstairs feeling weary before I even started the day, owing to being up
twice in the night for an hour a time. Wednesdays are like Piccadilly Circus in our house, never more so than on the fortnightly Nomination Whist sessions. There’s a constant flow of people up our garden path, all most welcome, you understand, it’s
just there’s, well, rather a lot of them.
Yesterday Ken the Gardener added to their number, his first visit of the year - and with him, the happy times started.
What’s not to like about a freshly mown lawn, a warm and sunny garden, a chat about the very best shrub or tree to plant in the bare patch in the garden? I am quite cheered by the time Kay arrives with her bag of goodies to maintain the Feeling of Goodwill
pervading my very self. Before she left, two hard-working hours later, she had helped me carry the spare chairs and card tables out of the garage to set them up in the living room, ready for the afternoon.
Nomination Whist is always fun. “I love this moment,” I told the other four players on my table as we prepared to deal out the cards for the first time, “Nothing has gone wrong yet….” Cue such
loud laughter on my table that the other six players on Mr B’s table complained that there was far too much hilarity going on. They paid us back in spades (and hearts, diamonds and clubs) before the afternoon was out.
But what’s this? Maree is unwrapping something from a carrier bag secreted in her handbag - it’s a chocolate trophy inscribed “Jaqui - Champion” and is in honour of my all-time
best performance, back in February, before Mr B fell ill and we had to curtail our Whist sessions for a while, when I scored a remarkable (for me!) 157. I am lost for words which, as you all well know, is not like me at all.
So, all in all, a happy day. A freshly mown lawn, a sunny day, a bag of goodies, a promise of butterflies, a chocolate trophy. Could anything go wrong on a day like this?
The Youngest of the Darling Daughters is delighted that I have had such a good day but is concerned that, given the part I am expecting the Trio of Rampaging Rascals to play, there may be Trouble Ahead.
“I pity those poor caterpillars…” she mourns.