bridging the gap header shows a hoya linearis held up in front of a naked body.

Bridging The Gap Between April And May

bridging the gap header shows a hoya linearis held up in front of a naked body.

Nope, I refuse to believe that April has already slid by and we are now into May. Honestly, I blinked and missed it! Which means I am woefully behind with my A-Z April endeavours. I had one simple job for the month, to keep up with Mrs Fever’s questions. Ooops, I failed at that! Now I’m going to attempt bridging the gap and answer R through to U. Which is handy as the prompt for Wicked Wednesday this week is bridges!


R

Do you have hand-written recipes or a recipe book that has been passed down to you?

As an avid collector of cookery books it may surprise you to learn that I don’t have a recipe book that has been passed down to me. And long may this situation last. You see, my mum has a recipe book, stuffed full of her favourite recipes. Including a couple of mine. I love this book, and I will often pull it out when I visit, just to refresh myself on an ingredient, or scribble down some instructions.

Many times Mum has offered me to take this book home with me, but I’m adamant. When she dies (which hopefully will be a long way into the future) I shall take it into my home. I’m sure that it will be a comfort to know that I’m among her loved dishes. At this point I might add a few of my own recipes, bridging the gap between our generations. But until then she must continue to use it, cook from it, add new favourites to the well loved pages.

S

Have you ever seen a Saguaro cactus? What kind{s} of plants do you love? (Or loathe, as the case may be.)

I can’t quite tell you if I’ve seen a saguaro Cactus in person, not being native to desert climates this is perhaps unsurprising. I think that I probably have, in the Desert environment at a local Zoo, but perhaps I should confirm this with a scavenger hunt post at some point? Though zoos are typically overrun with children and, well, people in general. Perhaps this is not such a good idea after all.

Anyway, back to the question… I do have a small collection of plants, as I tried to add to in my post It’s A Jungle Out There. Some of them I like much more than others. My current favourite is the easy to care for semi-succulent Hoya Linearis, as shown at the top of this post. It hangs in my window, sucking up the warm sunshine that (occasionally) floods through the clouds, and every year it produces clusters of delicately scented, waxy, white flowers. In spite of my best efforts to the contrary, this little powerhouse of a plant just keeps thriving on my neglect. And it never fails to make me smile when I pull the curtains each morning and evening.

T

What kind{s} of tea{s} suit you?

When it comes to tea I’m a bit of a slut- shocking, huh? Maybe not that surprising really, if you read my post Coffee, Tea And Non-Monogamy. In this post I considered how my relationship style matches my beverage selection process. Sir being my favourite Cup of Tea, coffee being bonus men, and anything other than my Dominant (Loose leaf Assam- see below) tea being all of the other play friends who I’m overjoyed to have in my world.

I have a wide selection of different teas in my home, and there are really very few that I don’t enjoy. Plain Green tea, plain chamomile and one specific blend- Nearly Nirvana. When supping this, my post-covid olfactory senses take me back to my formative years messing around with friends on their farms. I may enjoy the smell of muck spreading (I know, it’s a bit of an odd one) but I don’t wish to drink it!

Unlike coffee, when it comes to drinking tea I’m really not that particular.

If I’m using a pot I pop milk in my cup first. My Grandad taught me that this is the order so the tea scalds the milk and sweetens it. I have no idea how much truth there is to his lessons of years gone by, but it’s a tradition I uphold and think of him each time I pour a brew this way.

I love that we all seem to take our tea so differently too. Of my friends and family I don’t know two people who have the same preferences for how they drink it. Which has led to a catalogue of tea making instructions in my mind. It’s no wonder I have trouble addressing my children with the correct names- my brain is full of “strong-but-not-too-strong” or “show-it-the-bag-and-a-drip-of-skimmed”.

As for my perfect cuppa…

One tablespoon of loose Assam tea. Pour over freshly boiled water. Steep for four and a half minutes before being poured over a generous amount of milk. Strong, milky, and full of complex flavours. Invigorating yet also calming. Perfection poured.

U

What are the ‘universal’ experiences of grief?

How interesting that Mrs Fever should ask this very question when an upcoming post for my ongoing tale is about the loss of my gran. Grief is not something I am unused to. Growing up in an environment where people were reaching the end of their life gave an unusual perspective on a life well lived. And my dad died when I was still at school. However, it is only over recent years that I have realised grief is another name for love. When important people leave our lives, whether through death or circumstance, there is often a big hole. And how we deal with that does seem to follow a similar pattern, or at least share the same stages, even if they arrive at different times.

The Five Stages Of Grief. Psycom.net

The stages sometimes arrive in the order shown above, but more often than not they come out of order.

At least, this has been my experience. Grief is not linear, after all. It’s a cyclical thing which creeps up, often unannounced, flooring anyone who stands in its path. It’s a quarter century after my dad passed away. I have been sideswiped on more than one occasion, the sense of loss manifesting in unexpected ways. It’s been years since I’ve lost days to confusion and helplessness, around special dates,. I still think of him often though, generally in the acceptance phase but dipping into reaching out for support from friends.

I think the only universal experience of grief is that it is an individual process. Unique between you and each person that you lose. The pain of losing my mum, for example, will be very different to how I miss my dad. And that is OK. So long as I let them maintain their space in my heart then they will never truly leave. Then I’ll be able to enjoy our memories once I’ve passed through the stages for the first time, in whatever order they come.


Thank you for sticking with me as I begin Bridging The Gap Between April And May. Next time I share an AtoZ April post will see me wrapping up the alphabet. I hope you’re enjoying my answers so far. I’d love to hear your responses to the questions in the comments below.

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Wicked Wednesday

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2 comments

  1. Reading about the stages of grief it reminds me what my coach said about it: those steps are a soup, and barely ever comes in that order.
    As for your way of making tea: YUM!
    ~ Marie xox

  2. Grief is sneaky — you say It’s crept up on you; sometimes I’ve felt unexpectedly dive-bombed.

    It’s not always about death either. Loss of a relationship, losing children to adulthood, loss of a job that has previously been a key piece of one’s identity, etc. Those are all things we grieve too.

    I love that you are sticking with it! I look forward to seeing the end of your alphabet. 🙂

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