Sometimes on the way to your dream,

you get lost and find a better one.

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Sunday Selections # 325

Welcome back to Sunday Selections.

Begun way back in the mist of time by Kim of Frog Ponds Rock and now continued by me, with a drastic relaxation of rules.


Originally meant for showcasing old photos lost on your files, never seeing the light of day, the meme has morphed into photos of your choice, new or old, good or not-so-good, anything you please, but nothing rude please.
If you are participating, please leave me a comment so I can buzz along and have a look.


Elephant's Child always participates, and her pictures are always worth seeing.


This week I just took a little walk down the street:

autumn has brought on a final flush of roses on a few of the bushes, this particular bush has just the one bloom, way up high. Scented too.

the next bush over has creamy pinks, this one just opening,

and this one in full bloom, ruffly and pretty, but showing the signs of cold nights.

my erigeron hedge is doing really well, apart from that one dead patch on the lower left there. I'll pull that out tomorrow, so next spring the new growth can close the gap.

the street trees have lost a lot of their leaves, I like the look of bare branches against the sky.

the pine trees across the road are still lovely and green as always.

the new growth on those peruvian lilies is twice as big now, I'm looking forward to seeing the flower cones.

this small leaf jade has something else growing through the middle of it, I'll keep watch and see if it flowers.

bright skinned oranges on a neighbour's tree, by the colour I'd say they might be Valencia oranges. They are so yellow I thought they were lemons at first. 
I could be wrong on both counts, these balls of sunshine might be grapefruits.

in the same garden, a Japanese cut maple is showing signs of autumn colour,

see the faint pinking of the leaves there?

and it's gum nut season again. If you enlarge the picture you'll see spiderwebs on the right hand side of the bunch. Just a few weeks ago, these were bright pink flowers.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday, April 28, 2017

Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write, a story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are supplied by Lee and can be found here.

This week's words are:


1. audition
2. fantasy
3. misfortune
4. commitment
5. definitive
6. daunting

and/or:

1. mysterious
2. defy
3. masterful
4. discourage
5. virulent
6. neurotic

This week I'm continuing, again, with Tom's Memories, which needs a better title, but this will do for now.

Here is my story: (I haven't used all the words)

Tom had stopped for quite a while at the halfway point, taking photos from every direction and angle, even lying full length on the ground to take a shot through the dried grass to the ocean several metres away. He had switched to black and white film then and taken each shot again. Mentally, he thanked Mr Roscoe for discouraging him from using only colour film. As his photography skills improved, Tom began to see why. Many of the black and white photos showed a shadowy moodiness that just couldn't be captured with colour film.


Tom grinned at the memory of following a pretty girl with flawless* skin to the Photography class, when he was supposed to be going to Philosophy*. The minute he held his first camera, Tom had been hooked.


Reaching the top of the path, Tom was surprised to see the Scenic Retreat was not as rundown as he first thought. Two solid looking buildings with a glassed over walkway between them stood before him and he instantly saw the attraction of the view and the privacy of the remoteness.



It was a place for fantasy and romance and Tom imagined it could look quite mysterious on a dark evening with a storm front rolling in off the ocean. He packed his camera back into its bag, took a deep breath and started towards the door with its bright brass knocker. 

One last look around, then he lifted the knocker once, twice, and heard the echo of it in his own ears before hearing the slow shuffle of footsteps on the other side of the door. A key turned in the lock and the door swung open. An elderly face, surrounded by snow white hair, turned up to see him, then the bright blue eyes widened in surprise as she gasped. "Frank! oh it can't be, but you look just like him."  "Mrs Saunders?" Tom said, "I've been sent up here by Bill Money, he said you might be able to tell me some stories of the past."

"Of course, of course, come on in. I'll get Ed. Come in here and sit down, would you like a cup of tea?"
"I'd love one," said Tom and Mrs Saunders took off down the hall, calling "Ed, Ed! come and see who's here. He looks just like Frank, I just about fainted away when I saw him standing at the door."


A man's gruff voice answered. "What are you on about now Sara? What's this about Frank? Frank's been gone almost twenty years, I'd say by now he probably isn't ever coming back."
"Well of course it isn't Frank," said Sara. "It's a young man who looks almost exactly like him. Clean up and go into the sitting room while I make us all a cup of tea." Tom heard the whole exchange clearly and wondered who this Frank was and about his own resemblance to him. A small spark of hope fired in his brain. His father? Could the mysterious Frank be Tom's father? 


Tom's commitment to finding out as much as he could of his past grew exponentially. The process might be daunting, but after what he'd just heard, there was no going back. If Mr and Mrs Saunders had answers for his questions, he'd be grateful for the rest of his life.


Ed Saunders entered the room, wiping paint spattered hands on an old scrap of towel and stopped dead in the middle of the room as he caught sight of Tom's eyes. "Frank," he whispered, and backed up to sit in the chair by the window, opposite Tom. He just stared for a moment, marshalling his thoughts and trying to hide his emotions. "Sara was right," he said. "You do look just like Frank. Who are you?"


Sara came in just then and set down a tray with teacups and a plate of buttered scones, a dish of strawberry jam alongside. "I'll just bring in the teapot," she said. "Then I think a good long chat might be a good idea."  Tom said, "My name is Tom, I arrived in Shark Cove last night. I'm a photographer and part time journalist." "Wait until Sara gets back with the tea, son," said Ed. "She needs to hear this too."


Sara bustled back in and poured them all cups of tea and Tom thought briefly that Bill Money had been right. In spite of being almost ninety, these two were as spry as a pair of sixty year olds. He realised with a small jolt that something here was familiar and he began to look forward eagerly to spending the rest of the afternoon talking with Ed and Sara Saunders. 


He began by repeating what he'd told Ed, then defying logic, brought out the photo of the jetty reaching out into the water, the one that had started him on this journey. Tom found himself telling Ed and Sara about finding it, then coming here and seeing the jetty for himself, then the memory that came back to him. Sara held on to the photo and began to cry. "This is Cherie's work," she said. "I remember when she took it, she developed a whole roll of these in the dark room out back."  "Cherie?"  asked Tom gently. Sara came to sit beside him, looking intently at his face, his hair. "You must be the little boy," she said, " you look so much like them, I thought you were Frank when I saw you at the door, you'd be little Tom, you disappeared the night Cherie was killed." 


Tom felt suddenly like he'd been punched in the chest. His voice was hoarse when he said "Tell me everything you remember. Please, I have to know."  "Wait a minute," said Ed and went into the adjacent room, returning with a shoebox that had been sealed with duct tape. 

 "I think we need to start right from the beginning and in this box is all we have left of the things Frank and Cherie left behind when they stayed here. You'll stay for dinner now of course and I'll have Stephanie make up the bed in that room for you. This is going to be a long story and probably you'll hear things you might not want to know. But I look at you in this light and all I see is Frank and Cherie. Sara is right, you must be Tom, you'd be about twenty now?"

"Twenty just last week," said Tom. "Can you tell me my last name?"  "Kendall," said Sara. Your parents were Frank and Cherie Kendall, you are Tom Kendall. There was a nationwide search when you vanished, the police are going to have to be told that you are here, but that can wait while we talk all this through. 


Tom said, "My foster parents, Robert and Vanessa Moore are coming to Shark Cove in a couple of days. They're sure to want to hear all the stories too and I'd like them to meet both of you as well, if you don't mind." 

"Of course not," said Ed, "they'll have more to add to the story I'm sure." 
"Maybe not too much," said Tom. "I've only been with them since I was twelve and all of my earliest childhood records have been lost in an office fire."  

He smeared jam on a couple of scones and ate while thinking. He arrived at a definitive moment and said,"I'd like to hear first how Cherie, my mother, died. What happened that night? I remember hearing a scuffle, then someone came into my room and wrapped me up in my blanket so I couldn't see anything, then carried me away. After that I only remember being lost and alone in a big city." 


** two words from last week's list
the picture is one I found through Google images, thank you to whoever put it there.


Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Whimsical Wednesday # 276

Welcome back to Whimsical Wednesday!

The day for your googled giggle that gets you over the hump that is Wednesday and sliding down into the weekend.

Has anyone ever found Waldo??
 

Monday, April 24, 2017

Musical Monday # 149

I was introduced to Musical Monday by Delores who copied the meme from another site.

I think it’s a fun way to show off some of the music we like and brighten up our Mondays at the same time. 


I’ll be finding my clips on you tube, so will simply credit that site since there are often so many versions of everything and I wouldn’t want to accidentally credit the wrong artist.


Today’s clip is: Gene Pitney


It Hurts to Be In Love

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Sunday Selections # 324

Welcome back to Sunday Selections.

Begun way back in the mist of time by Kim of Frog Ponds Rock and now continued by me, with a drastic relaxation of rules.


Originally meant for showcasing old photos lost on your files, never seeing the light of day, the meme has morphed into photos of your choice, new or old, good or not-so-good, anything you please, but nothing rude please.


If you are participating, please leave me a comment so I can buzz along and have a look.
Elephant's Child always participates, and her pictures are always worth seeing.


A random selection today:

It's autumn here so many footpaths are covered in gloriously coloured leaves. These here looked so much prettier before I got the camera out, the sun was out briefly, then gone by the time I focused.

I'm not sure if this tree has storm damage or if this is the normal bark peeling, it seems a little deep, but rather pretty also.

much progress has been made in cutting back dead undergrowth in  this yard I'm working on. Some new growth has gone too, but it was right at the end of what I thought was dead branches and already this Buddleia has new shoots along the stumps of the cut branches, so it will survive this. That black spot on the ground is Missy, sound asleep. I check every time to be sure she is still breathing.

these branches are from the hayfever/headache inducing Murraya, which I plan to remove completely.

the two bright green leafy branches here are all that is left to cut down from the Murraya. I have to be careful which way they fall** as they are up against the neighbours fence and I don't want them dropping onto his car. 
**(edit) they are down now, I cut a notch on the side I wanted them to fall, then cut into the opposite side and pushed them over as I cut. Can you believe I'm doing this with a small $5 pruning saw? 

Her kangaroo paws are flowering again, but mine have died, so I dug them out and they won't be replaced.

we had some rain on Thursday, everything not under shelter got a good drink,

it began on Wednesday night and I hoped it would wet the garden enough that I didn't have to water.  It didn't of course, and I should have watered by now, but early morning seems to be the best time and I've been sleeping until 10am. I'll have to make the effort soon.

Thursday evening the air had that lovely golden tint that hints at a coming storm, which didn't happen, Friday was sunny all day and by evening long shafts of setting sun were slicing through the garden

to highlight parts not generally standing out from the rest of the green.

Angel has found a new favourite spot to sleep, on the table right by the front door. I used to have pots with cuttings here, they have all been planted out in the garden now and seem to be surviving, but I won't know for sure until next spring.
You can see his fur is growing back nicely, he is looking much more like his old fluffy self now.
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday, April 21, 2017

Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write a story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are supplied by Lee and can be found here.

This week's words are:


1. ludicrous
2. activity
3. rebellious
4. sceptical
5. acknowledge
6. begrudge

and/or:

1. philosophy
2. foolhardy
3. advantage
4. flawless
5. discovery
6. canopy

this week I'm continuing the story of Tom and his memories 

Here is my story:

 Looking up at the brilliant blue canopy above, Tom took a moment to acknowledge his current level of sky-high happiness was a little ludicrous, but still he couldn't stop grinning. Vanessa and Robert wanted him as their son! 
He was sceptical about adoption being possible at his age, but even without that formality, Tom would be proud to be known as their son. 

For the past eight years they had stood by him, teaching him the world wasn't such a bad place, raising him with love, steering him through his rebellious teenage years, talking him out of a foolhardy plan to drop out of school and just work with Robert on the farm. They stressed the importance of education.


His mood sobering, Tom recalled vague, long ago memories of panic at being lost and alone, not knowing where his parents were or what had happened to them. He remembered years of being shunted from one foster home to another, each time rejected because of his fear-driven tantrums, nightmares and sleepwalking. Growing out of those, Tom became sullen and socially withdrawn, taking advantage of every opportunity to steal money or food and skip school.


Robert and Vanessa Moore had turned all that around almost from the first day. Instead of talking at him, laying down rules and punishments for breaking them, they talked to him and with him, encouraging Tom to speak freely. More importantly, they listened. 

They took him shopping for new clothes that hadn't already been worn by countless other boys before him, asked him to help with selecting groceries, and didn't begrudge him second helpings at the dinner table. Robert took him around the farm, showing Tom every aspect of self-sufficient farming, the crops, the small tractor, the chickens that laid their breakfast eggs, the orchard that supplied their fruit. 

Tom grew, physically and emotionally, flourishing under their care. He rarely mentioned his parents. Requests made by Robert to obtain Tom's earliest paperwork, brought the discovery that nothing before age eight could be found. There had been a fire in the office building and the records of many children had been burned. 


Putting aside those thoughts, Tom went back to his room, picked up a small knapsack already packed with notebook, a couple of extra pens and a camera and set out to find the trail Bill Money had told him would lead up to the Scenic Retreat. 

There were two trails, one easily accessible that most tourists used and a smaller goat track for those who wanted a more challenging activity. There was a small turn-around halfway up with a seat where a person could rest and Tom thought this lesser track would give excellent photographic opportunities. 
He checked his watch, Bill had said the climb might take as much as an hour, depending on how fit someone might be, saw there was plenty of time and set out to meet with Mr and Mrs Saunders. He'd leave the library and pub searches for another day.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Whimsical Wednesday # 275

Welcome back to Whimsical Wednesday!

The day for your googled giggle that gets you over the hump that is Wednesday and sliding down into the weekend.

(*~*)