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.
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.