Tacit knowledge of a tidy bag (fragment)

I am prepardedness, readying for something unknown, a Black Summer of scarce resources. Against this I will grow five or six courgettes and lay a strip of birch bracket on a grazed knee. It is coming down the line. There's a palpable state of alert in the air; an affective, resonant need to monitor the levels of crisis in the cables. I know where all the streams are but not the quality of the water. I plan to test it. The hazelnut trees, nasturtiums, dandelion roots (how many can live off ten plums trees - we must be mad) sage leaves, wild chives (i saw a nigella flower proud from a cracked flag); can you eat clover? Can you eat it, as in, is it worth it?

I roll my clothes down neat and tight: one pair of socks, a clean tshirt, knickers, leggings; the latter long, the tshirt lengthwise with knickers next in thirds then socks across and ends outward from the middle. Roll. Tuck. Press. Roll. Tuck. Bind the edges with the elasticated cuff. A doughnut. A demonstration of discipline. The tacit knowledge of a tidy bag is a type readiness.