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March 6th 2009

 

    All of a sudden it is warm enough for insect life.  A little fly in the potato bed and a spider pottering around.  The worms are slow and while digging I probably decimated their population.  But no sleeping toads, which is always a relief, because sometimes the shovel goes right through one, leaving that sense of betrayal in a gory wake.

    Okanya and I once needed glue. I don't recall why, but it probably had something to do with an airplane.  Paper was one more commodity not easy to wrestle away from adults.  Glue was impossible.

      

    We had noticed that after a while a squashed fly tended to stick to wherever it had been squashed.  So, we decided, a quantity of them mashed together might make a good glue. 

    More interesting though was the possibility of finding an inner-tube, from which to make catapults.  But that required a blade and blades were like inner-tubes, always well guarded.

    Okanya's mother used a jembi in her garden.  Like a grubbing hoe with a short handle.  Back then, real men didn't work gardens, nor were we expected to.

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