Just a regular day, thank God

It's an unseasonably warm November day, bright and far too dry, and yet still firmly autumnal, the leaves on the mulberry and fig turning fall hues of gold and red, the pomegranate and almond almost bare branched by now. On the olive tree the last of its fruits are shiny black with oil, withering on the tree, an surprise storm blew many of the olives down last month and we didn't get our act together to pick what remained.

My middle son climbed in to the small kumquat tree, lodged a bucket in its fork and picked the plump little orange fruits from the groaning branches. Looks like we will soon have ripe lemons to pick as well.

Yesterday's highlight though was the robin red breast who came to visit us, announcing his presence with a defiant chirp from the rose bush but mostly busying himself on the earth beneath searching for bugs to eat. I haven't seen a robin in my garden in so long that I just stopped folding the laundry by the garden window and watched him until he suddenly took flight and disappeared over the fence.

Right now though it's the chaotic mid-afternoon hour just after the kids arrive home from school in a whirlwind of noise, sand and backpacks and shoes strewn by the door like a barricade.

My second oldest announced upon walking in that "something smells good", grabbing a handful of potatoes from the roasting pan and eyeing the pot of corn on the cob approvingly, before recoiling in horror upon tasting the fresh steamed mange tout that I innocently gave him to try. He then busied himself
making a smoothie with mango, pineapple, cinnamon and yoghurt to erase the evil green flavour from his mouth.

My second youngest declared that he wants to make a robot monster out of egg boxes and my middle child has taken charge of the project with a mess of old boxes, crayons and craft supplies, sitting in a huddle on the floor with the the little ones in a creative frenzy of colouring and cutting of cardboard.

Which is why I'm the only one who's noticed the cute little green lizard (litaa zeriza) crawling up the screen door and the frenetic male sunbird twittering around the window and briefly perching on the railings in a flash of iridescent purple and green glittering in the golden afternoon sunlight.