The Laird stays out until one in the morning; the school board meeting followed by college deskwork. After fourteen years of boarding school life he is used to unusual hours. I notice he spends more and more time away from home. Is that my fault? I expect I am less present to his needs these days. Thank goodness he is in a friendly mood this evening. Everyone knows when a bad mood takes over, that’s for sure. I hope he isn’t hurting too much.
BARBED WIRE AND THUNDERBOLTS
Harsh metal; piercing the light-filled cloth,
Finished; demanding negative rip and tear.
Lightening bolt to send the shock—fast and direct along the wire.
They reel, holding tight, though bloodstains soak their cuffs.
Tuesday 21st November 2006
A.m. Adrian: Time to rise. The golden break of day can be glimpsed through the curtain crack. Wake and enter the world. Dreams spoke of the need for greater thought around school and organization. Missing planes——setting fires on board——getting into cockpit and upsetting instruments——somehow getting off the plane mid-flight and——there was a torrent of impressions——signalling chaos in life and a need to be slow and ordered. Class holding; Monday crash landing maybe? Yes, marking books——wrapping up the children some more——thinking through——reports——not honouring them as well as I could. Bad teacher——Ooh! Mind talk——insidious. Choose——can I give up this drowsy clearing time and rush it? Get frantic and busy? Can’t stand it——but is this indulgent? These long texts——stretching and thinking. Big J. thunders about, adding to my sense of laziness. If a 60-year-old woman can get going now——means you must be slack. I am slack——false.
Truth? I lead a busy, full life that could be better organized if I chose——or else I’ll be in trouble——people won’t like me. I’ll let others down. So, I choose to rise now and move steadily to school by 7.30. Mark books and make a new drawing. Update my plans if time——and love my woman——deliverer of——
Mouse: Good morning, My Lovely Swallow Man——X——Your Lady is a touch busy this morn too——helping The Laird and the Scowler pack and get off for Camp——not back until Friday late p.m. Also trying to swot up on how to be an exam invigilator. Starts this morning. Will be finished by 12.30 at the very latest. Can we meet today? Shall I come to The Leafy Glade when I am done? What are your plans, My Darling? Loving you. Mouse in a dash——
Adrian: Yes, works well——I need to get organic veges for the week and other groceries, so I’ll be back by then. Loving you strongly. Wondering what the learning instructions were? Could eat you all up, My Little Thumbelina——watching the self-indulgent, distracting and lustful nature of this impulse of course. Woof! Your Man and Little One. Warm glow still around Rinky’s words——and her acceptance——whatever. No holding fixed ideas but certainly hope springeth forth gushingly X.
Mouse: Let’s gush together, Lord Swallow——preferably all over your cosy, inviting bed! Laird warm and preoccupied——no instructions yet. Want to be consumed by you entirely——safe time too. Yum——big love——M——X
Adrian: Needs to be your Mountain Lair then. I choose not to be disturbed by a thundering Big J. Detect my resentment there? Let’s be very clear on our integrity my Love——stop——proceed only if granted——X
Mouse: Hear you loud and clear, Sir——just caught up in general holiday atmosphere——as well as enticing texts from a very sexy man. Let’s stick with Leafy Glade——not much time if we drive up the hill. “Be good, I trust you, no kissing strange men——or not so strange——while I am away. Remember you are my wife!” A warning goodbye from The Laird. Yes, respect and integrity. Loving you——X
The day begins. The two Senior Males head off to Camp and the smaller Castle Inmates go to School. I arrive at College for exam invigilation. There is a specific routine with a speech to deliver. I get my head around it pretty fast; the headmaster’s wife is directing proceedings. They don’t use the term ‘exam invigilator’ in New Zealand. Apparently I am an ‘exam supervisor’.
Serious faces, smart uniforms, modern corridors with school bags left in heaps by the open doors; this is a different world. These exams are called N.C.E levels 1 & 2, {the equivalent of our G.C.S.E’s and A.S levels}. In between my supervisor strolls I manage to log our copious texts, as well as learn my lines for the Nativity Play.
Midday, Adrian: How goes the policing? I have yet to leave school. Then to shop. Home about 1p.m. Love you.
Mouse: Darling, leaving in 10 mins. Where to meet? Love you too——X
Adrian: How about The Everglades 1p.m? I will show you Sherwood Forest today, My Lass. Get ready to follow me——
Mouse: Lovely——have got dog and meagre picnic. See you there. Feather in my cap, skirt exchanged for strides. I’d follow you anywhere, Sir. Here I come——X
A troubled Lord Swallow meets me at The Everglades. I suppose I should be used to his difficulties by now; our illicit connection adds fuel to his already heavy mind-load. The closer we get the more open Adrian becomes. His tumultuous inner world allows me entrance——in fact, begs me to step inside. My permanent optimism prevents me from dwelling on the negatives in life; perhaps this is a balm to his pressing mind-talk. “Let’s just sit here. I’ve already eaten,” he says, getting out of his car. Unwelcome disconnection lies at odds with his earlier messages. I wait. This is our landing——our entry into a private world. Moving from everyday life to the helm of our increasingly real Boat is tricky. We stroll quietly under the dense canopy trees. I ask Adrian what is up. He is unsure.
How enticing the winding paths appear today. We walk further than we have done before. We stop to admire the leaves of a red maple tree; the sunlight pierces their delicate fingered points. We raise our hands to touch the sunshine magic. The children call these shafts of filtered light; ‘sunbows.’ We pass the hidden homestead we have spied before, nestling in a quiet hollow. “There is something rather appealing about that house,” the Prince and his Lady agree. This place really is lovely. It suits our need for peace and quiet.
We eventually arrive in a rolling meadow. Newly built homes border its edge, following the curve of the land. New Zealand house builders are creative. Each home is different——modern with ample decking and purpose built, outdoor living areas. Many of the homes have main rooms on the first floor, leaving the basements to teenagers, garaging and boat storage. The buildings are often raised to maximise the incredible views and cope with the steep land formation. The sub-tropical climate is the best in the country so we have been informed, hence the booming expansion of this lovely, coastal town. I keep a close watch on the many building projects we regularly pass as we drive about town. There is something new every day. The speed of progress is staggering.
Ducking under fallen branches, we head back into the privacy of the tree line. “I suppose I need to know what next?” Adrian says, taking me to him at last. “Are you The One? The One for me for ever?” He questions himself, he questions my age; yes, I am older. He hasn’t really acknowledged this before. He knew there was a difference, but not the amount of years exactly. “Does it really matter? No, it is not an important issue. Yes, I am becoming a man. I can tangibly feel it.” He holds me close, kissing me gently on the top of my head, which lies in perfect comfort upon his chest and heart. We sense an impending sentence. We are waiting. What is coming?
I recall one of yesterday’s conversations; “I don’t think I can face the; ‘will you, wont you, could you cope with me?’ task of starting another relationship,” Adrian had said. “This is so perfect; so comfortable in every way. Everything is natural and easy when we are together. I want to treat you like a woman, really look after you as if you were mine.” As he holds me in tentative ownership I notice the tangle of branches that are level with my eyes; thin layers of silvery lichen grow along them as ghostly fingers enclosing us both. I have always understood this intriguing plant to grow on the north side of a tree. With a detached though
t I wonder if it grows on the south side here, in the Southern Hemisphere, in line with the upside down way that surprises me all the time. For instance, the estate agent’s blurb waxes lyrical about ‘the perfect, north-facing position’ of the property you are viewing.
“What we need is a sign”, Adrian declares as we head back to School. “Yes, a strong sign is definitely needed,” we laugh together. “Perhaps the Angel Gabriel will really make an appearance during the play. That would do the trick!”
P.m. Mouse: Got it. A strong picture. Our next meeting should be a night-time vigil——candle lit——silent——waiting——prayerful. I shall light a candle tonight in preparation——X
Adrian: Little Mouse, Little Mouse——can I call you at your house?
I telephone my Swallow Man. We chat, but we don’t achieve our usual level of communion. Texting suits us much better, we both agree. “We can say so much more; really choose our words and sentence structure.” “But, there again,” I add; “I love to hear your words in my ear as we whisper each other goodnight.”
Late p.m. Mouse: The candle is lit——vulnerable yet steady in its quiet question——a humble meditation on its own. A small flicker holds the nighttime vigil. The crackling wood sings in the stove and contented animals slumber by the castle fender. She will stay with the candle this night. There is purpose in The Mountain calm. She embraces it——open and waiting, expecting nothing but a pure, connected benediction. X
Adrian: He prepares his bed and follows his routine——discovering the falsehood he has believed. The sheets are crisp and fresh——the pillows seem fluffy. He has seen his beautiful self tonight in the mirror. He hopes and longs for the connection they have shared in the past——is it through The Gate? Why not now? Nodding, but with her——gentle scent——swan-like muzzling——
Mouse: Their secret is out——no longer secure in its real fantasy. It turns to face the present world with innocence and beauty. It is fragile, vulnerable and naive. To find a steady footing on this new platform will be difficult. They cannot rely on their private Ocean to the same extent. The wind in their sails has dropped. They are becalmed——awaiting the new breeze. Meanwhile, the candle flicker waits with them. It will be the first to feel the new setting——X
I am blessed by a beautiful sleep accompanied by the little candle, which keeps alive until the early hours. I spend a blissful, imaginative time in my Lover’s arms between four and five a.m, wondering if he senses me lying with him. I doze until six a.m when his message wakes me.
Wednesday 22nd November 2006
A.m. Adrian: They are together already——quiet——close——warm——wondering——waiting. He remembers how it is to wait for a new breeze to fill the sails. Leaping hope at each waft of the woolies——each breath that teases the canvas——cat-like tail flicks——and then it comes——across the water——rippling, darkening the sheen. And action stations——the sails fill and the rigging breaks; The Boat heels over and away, sometimes at speed——scudding——the helmsman loving it——a look of blessed joy upon his face.
Mouse: His figure poised——adept and skilled he watches the canvas with anticipation, aware of every move and ripple. Asleep below decks, wrapped so warmly in his blanket, she wakes with the sound of his stirring above. An instant excitement grips her——a new movement, hardly felt yet present. She slumbers on a while, hope filling her as she thinks of him; her fine, handsome man, his eyes alive and linen shirt un-tucked and loosely buttoned as he handles the sheets——X
Adrian: The wind has been with them, but now, becalmed are they. What do sailors do? Wait and attend to The Boat: Cleaning and ordering, airing bedding, washing clothes, talking, planning when they will next reach port. Candle-lit and silent vigil——tonight——no words. Those others present in our consciousness——the Laird, Cordelia, Hau, Felicia, Simon and others——all those who have journeyed with us. And my body warms and swells for you——as does my spirit——both yearning for connection, but through different levels——
Mouse: A beautiful Rainbow rushes through her as his words deliver their greeting. He is taking her by the hand and leading her through The Gate with a powerful, steady stride. Tonight they will be silent. Tonight they will light candles. Tonight they will welcome the dusk in reverence and quiet——
A busy day lies ahead for me. I am ‘blissed out’ by our morning messages——big sigh. “Mummy”, begins my little Lady in the car, “it will just be you and me tonight.” {The Go-Getter is staying with a friend.} “We can practice being alone for Christmas,” I reply. And then, unprompted, she asks; “How much older are you than Adrian?” The timing of her comment amazes me; is she reading my mind or something? Time and again she is picking up on unspoken thoughts and intentions. “A few years older in fact, but it doesn’t feel like it somehow,” I reply. “What do you think?” She answers immediately; “I would say you were the same age.”
The van instinctively follows the twisty country route that takes us twelve minutes to the bottom of the hill; it seems to know each and every one of the 27, sharp bends. Sometimes we are in the open; passing rolling pasture reminiscent of Devon and sometimes we are in dense Bush. At times we could be in the jungle. The steep sides of the gorge tower above us clad in ferns and eucalyptus, pine trees and bracken. We cross a narrow bridge; we notice the beehives where we often see suited beekeepers. Coming out into the open we are rewarded by views of the extensive bay and impressive volcanic hill that stands in the harbour; a well-known landmark in the area. From Devon to St. Tropez in fifteen minutes——marvelous!
Maori legend tells the tale of the harbour hill——‘The Nameless One,’ who once stood on the edge of the Hautere Forest. The hill was a ‘pononga’, a slave, to the nearby, chiefly mountain Otanewainuku. {The Forest that Class 3 visit is on this mountain; it lies directly above our home.} Away to the southwest lies the graceful form of Puwhenua, a beautiful hill clothed in the rich ferns and native Bush of the Tane Forest. The nameless one was desperately in love with Puwhenua. However, she had already given her heart to Otanewainuku. The lowly slave was in despair; the only course of action left him was drowning in the Pacific Ocean. Calling on the help of the ‘Patupaiarehe’, the fairy beings of the Hautere Forest, he pleaded with them to drag him down to the Ocean. These magical sprites sang their songs of enchantment and started pulling him towards the sea, gouging out the valley where the river Waimapu now flows. By the time they reached the shore the sun had begun to rise and the Patupaiarehe, who disappear with the light, left the nameless one alone, stranded at the water’s edge where he remains to this day. Every morning he is the first to catch the rays of the morning sun and reigns in silent dignity over the surrounding region. The Patupaiarehe named him Mauoa, which means: ‘Caught by the morning sun.’
Midday, Mouse: She sends him deep blessing——hoping his day has gone well; walking with the Forest Giants. She is learning lines and logging texts in a French exam. She has mislaid one of his messages from this morning——the one about watching the poised sails——so beautifully scripted. Can you please re-send? Should be finished by 5p.m. I need to shop, collect The Minx from a friend, and then home to cook. Got to walk the dog in all that too. Tired Mouse tonight. Love you——X
Adrian: Second trip to Forest with Class 3 went perfectly. Well-behaved children——obliging weather——bracing walk——fine old man who showed us his collection of antique, forestry tools. Happy children and helpers——happy and relaxed teacher. Great adventure. Back after 3p.m without complaint or over-tired children. Very much looking forward to curling up with you soon. Poor little Mouse——{sounds too busy}. Lots of love to you.
I am in a Mother’s dash, organizing supper and Rinky’s bedtime. She and I are alone this evening, until the arrival of Lord Swallow that is. Rinky must sense my excitement and anticipation. She is slow to unwind. The saucepans are washed and dried, new logs stacked by the fire and our Nesty Place, complete with velvet curtain privacy, ha
s turned The Mountain Cabin into The Castle Boudoir. Even the Bog-Brush appears right-placed, her shaggy slumped demeanor by the fire definitely from more ancient times. We wait. Quiet——expectant——so happy.
Adrian: Sweet Woman, are you ready to receive me? Would like to bring my computer up to do some reports with you——
Mouse: Come whenever, Sir——I am feeling soft and ready for a gentle evening. Rinky and I are about to get in the bath——X
Adrian: Hi, I’m nearly there. Shall I drive right on up?
Mouse: Yes, sweet kinder sleeps at last. Do drive right on up—X
Adrian is wearing a cream hoody that I haven’t seen before——he doesn’t usually wear hoodies. He takes a seat by the fire, his customary discomfort at entering our forbidden realm written across his furrowed brow. It takes him a while to feel present; to unwind. I am prepared and ready with a cup of tea and adoring eyes. I refrain from being over-enthusiastic. The Bog-Brush bowls him over in excitement instead. Adrian spends more time looking after her than The Laird. She adores him; he is so caring yet masterful with her. His own mature dog follows him to the fireside.
“Look what I found in the drive,” he says, holding out a tiny, white bunny cupped tenderly in his hands. He is so gentle with the animals. We return the creature to its nest under the house. Blossom has decided the weather is warming up and the choice of outdoor, family accommodation is more suitable for her alarming reproductive tendency.
Adrian has photos of the forest walk to show me; another successful adventure. And then we light the vigil candles. We sit together, whispering quietly. “How are you feeling? What are you thinking?”
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