the moment before things change

What with my not speaking to my ankle and everything, Frieda and I had a very quiet afternoon yesterday pottering round the house. I was trying to take the physio's advice about staying off my feet and hence allowed three episodes of Postman Pat to run back to back while I lay on the couch with a magazine. Doctor's orders and all ...

But I found I couldn't stop looking at my girlie. Staring in fact. (I've often been accused of being a creepy stare-er in public - not by the public you understand, by my loving friends - but that's for another time).

Yesterday I couldn't stop staring at Frieda. It's not like I don't see enough of her ha ha, but there was just something about her yesterday which I couldn't put my finger on. Something fleeting, something I couldn't quite quantify, something which kept drawing me back to staring. At her. While she of course was completely oblivious.

And after a while I realised what it was. She's transitioning. My little girl is just about to do one of those major leaps in development. She's starting to look like the next version of herself, a real little girl look, and there was something - parental instinct, a maternal eye, I'm not sure what it was -but something alerted me to it, and I couldn't stop staring as I tried to catch the Moment, or maybe just store as much visual memory as I could of how she is Right Now.

Another change which became apparent yesterday: winter's a-coming. I was wearing sleeves!! Sleeves people, not seen round these parts since last year!

And then, just to round off a day of changes: I stood out front of our house with Frieda and the pup in the late afternoon, admiring the light on the mountain behind us and feeling envious of all those strong-ankled people no doubt cycling and walking up there, and just a few hours later found myself standing out in the road in the howling wind watching as the entire mountainside was engulfed in flame.

Another in this summer's series of fires which have played havoc all over the Peninsula. Another one undoubtably started by arsonists (what a weird compulsion, to cause large scale damage and civic upheaval), and this time we had front row seats!

It was an almighty display, the flames sweeping up the slopes at a phenomenal pace, and with such force that we could hear the roar of the backdraft from where we were standing. Fire on this scale really awakens an instinctual fear.

As does standing out in the road with expensive photographic equipment in the middle of the night!