Sometimes on the way to your dream,

you get lost and find a better one.

Sunday, September 30, 2018

Sunday Selections

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.


Remember the butchered tree from last week?

this is all that is left

it's about a metre across. I'm still angry about this, but the new development on the adjoining block is covering all the area where the tree roots would be on that side and over the years the tree might have suffered a slow death, dropping branches on roof, paths, people, so while I hate this solution, it might be for the best. 

these are the erigerons (seaside daisy) I planted the first year I moved here. They're doing really well, these are knee height,

with this one being almost hip height to me.

I love the cheery pink and white flowers on them.

here is something no one wants to see in any garden, this is in one of the rain gardens on the footpath.

golden wattle is blooming brightly everywhere

on the other side of the block is this different wattle, which is much, much larger than it looks here

the leaves are different and the lemon scented golden balls are a softer yellow, most of these haven't opened yet, except a few dead centre in the photo


and a few right at the edge.

this lemon scented wattle is in the yard of this soon-to-be-demolished house that I showed you a few weeks ago. I expected that to have begun by now, but it seems I was wrong. The house will be replaced by two-two storey townhouses, so it's a forgone conclusion the tree will also go along with the rest of the vegetation there.

here is the lovely Lady Lola perusing the newest IKEA catalogue

gazing out the window

settling down for a nap

stretching all the way out

and sound asleep.















Friday, September 28, 2018

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 again supplied by Delores and can be found here.

This week's words are: 

1. bespoke
2. fence
3. poster
4. drained
5. splice
6. ergonomic

and/or:

1. bridle
2. bent
3. wallow
4. derail
5. stoned
6. savings

Here is my story:


“Dad, what does ‘bespoke’ mean?” I drained the last of my only-one-allowed after dinner beer and bent down to see what my daughter was reading. It was one of those glossy ‘rich lifestyle’ magazines where people with more money than Midas show off their mansions and yachts. Charlotte had come across an article about a bride in her bespoke gown. I explained the meaning of the word and she then said, “Oh. Like that ergonomic sleeping chair the specialist designed for Mum, with the straps to hold her spine straight as she sleeps in that forward position.” “That’s exactly right. No one else has a chair just like that, made especially to your Mum’s measurements.” “I wish she didn’t need it,” Charlotte whispered. “It won’t be forever,” I said. “Mum’s making progress, we just can’t see it yet. The Doctors all agree her breathing and heart rate are much steadier, which indicates she isn’t in a panic state anymore. And she has been moving her fingers more, so that’s a good thing.”

“If only that stupid rider hadn’t tried to jump that fence, he wouldn’t have fallen onto Mum with his horse.” “Now Charlotte, we’ve been through this. It wasn’t his fault. His bridle snapped right at an unfortunate moment.” She hung her head, saying, “I know, I just feel so bad sometimes that he was right there right then.” I rubbed her shoulder and confessed to having that same thought occasionally. “But we mustn’t wallow in self pity, Char. It doesn’t change anything, although a good cry now and again doesn’t hurt. And that rider feels the same way about Mum being right there, right then.  Remember he did come around once he had the crutches and brought her a new camera to replace the crushed one.”

“All true,” said Charlotte, “but I heard you talking to Mum last week about how all the specialists have really derailed your savings plans and the ‘progression poster’ has been taken down so you can redraw it. Was she awake when you told her? Does she know? Did you tell her Justin has left school for a year and is working instead to help out?” “Yes, I told her all of that, but I’m not sure if she was awake or not. Sometimes her fingers move when I’m talking to her, sometimes they move randomly when no one else is there but the nurses. We just have to keep talking to her.”

We heard Justin’s key in the door then and both of us scrambled up from the floor, realising how late it was getting. I put Justin’s dinner in the microwave as he excitedly told us how he’d learned to cut film today and discard the bits the producer didn’t want and splice together the remaining lengths. “I know all about the cutting room floor now!” he said. “Today we had to cut out the bits where that creepy lead actor looked like he was stoned for his whole speech.”

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

I changed my mind about boycotting strawberries

You have all read here about the sabotaged strawberries with sewing needles being found in them. 

In our newspapers there have been photos showing billions of yummy berries being dumped and buried by front end loaders. Such a waste ☹☹

Anyway- another article a day or so later was titled "Cut them up-don't cut them out" and the minute I read that title I realised how silly I was denying myself the yumminess of these sweet, sweet strawberries, because I DO cut them up. 
I always have.

this is about a half the punnet

here's the other half, all chopped up

in another bowl, a little Greek yoghurt,

a little too much honey, mix well,

stir in the chopped strawberries and breakfast is served 😃





Sunday, September 23, 2018

Sunday Selections

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.


Back again? Nice to see you :)

here's that happy sun shining again

while the clouds continue heading east and south to hang over the hills

closer to the ground now, more little balls of sunshine: lemons in S's tree

flower buds on her sage



pots-in-waiting

her bluebells are out, mine will take longer, she is further west and gets a tad more sunshine daily than I do

bright red berries on the cotoneaster


I like this old square terracotta pot

now for something not so nice:

my favourite gum tree has been horribly butchered,

look to the right and see the two branch stumps facing the new house construction. They were reaching all the way to the scaffolding, with one of them inside a window frame. All they had to do was trim back those two branches :(

instead, this is all that remains of a canopy that once covered easily ten metres of sky, creating an ocean of shade below and being home to many small birds. I cried when I saw it.

let's finish with something prettier, a perfect pink rose.
.







Friday, September 21, 2018

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 again supplied by Delores and can be found here.
This week's words are: 

1. perfume
2. blanket
3. blue
4. market
5. voltage
6. feline

and/or:

1. exotic
2. throttle
3. oven
4. comprehend
5. toss
6. trespass

Here is my story:



How long had it been since that day at the market? She no longer knew. She barely remembered buying the new high voltage battery he’d wanted for the generator, also a new baking dish, hoping it would fit in the old wood fired oven.

Since then, every day was a blur, a dream like state she didn’t seem to be able to wake from. At night she would toss and turn, then the nightmare would begin again. Rising from the bed, she would pick up the blue blanket from the floor where it had been thrown. 
Once a favoured cover for their bed, it now smelt vaguely of the exotic perfume worn by that hussy, who, with feline stealth, had dared to trespass in her house. In her bed.

She could not comprehend how this had happened. 
That day, returning from the market, and finding the hussy's clothes strewn upon the stairs, she had wanted to throttle him for allowing it to happen, but as her rage built, she climbed the stairs to their bedroom with the bread knife in her hands. As they slept, closely entwined, she stabbed and stabbed, until her rage subsided and grief and exhaustion took over. 
She'd slept then, with them. 
In the bed, in the blood. 
And every morning since, with her mind broken, she would again rise from the bed, pick up the blue blanket, and holding it, wonder why it smelt vaguely of that exotic perfume.

She never looked back towards the bed, where the bodies still lay.

Sunday, September 16, 2018

cake recipe please?

My neighbour V visited me this afternoon, just as I was about to go to her home, so we sat in my recliners and chatted and laughed and I got to put off the vacuuming again. Yay!

Anyway, she mentioned a birthday cake M had a couple of years ago, M couldn't eat all the leftovers herself and gave a slab to V.

A sponge cake flavoured with Angelica. 
Yes, that's right, flavoured with not decorated with.

V asked today if I could possibly find a recipe online.

Well, that could take me forever... and most recipes I've found so far have to do with crystallised angelica used for decorating, there's nothing out there suggesting a sponge cake flavoured with the angelica.

So if anyone out there knows of one, please post it here or on your own blog if you prefer and I'll come on over and read it there. You'll have to leave a link.

Of course if I do find a recipe, I'm going to have to make it for her, V is 83 and has never baked a cake in her life.

Sunday Selections

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.


continuing from last week:

that same bright sunshine but the clouds have moved on

here they are hanging around over the hills area, with a blue sky smile peeping through

all the local hawthorn bushes are covered in buds

one of the more funny characters living in these flats, I won't show his face without asking him first

cyclamen are everywhere

and I do mean everywhere

the deep purple velvet of pansies is a favourite of mine, it's the colour of dreams

a weather-beaten daisy is still beautiful

colourful geranium leaves

spurge (euphorbia) is blooming again

I like the 'pixie-hat' shape of the tiny flowers

the gorgeous red bronze of new growth on the roses

coming back for more next week?














Friday, September 14, 2018

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 once again supplied by Delores and can be found here.

This week's words are:

1. left
2. bachelor
3. dripping
4. movies
5. doorway
6. mansion

and/or:

1. bunion
2. forlorn
3. estate
4. plush
5. clump
6. rags

Here is my story:


I’d walked through the rusty, once white, wrought iron estate gates and now stood staring at the wreck that was once my Uncle Christopher’s mansion. It looked very little like the photograph I held in my hand. Uncle Christopher had died a decade ago and the estate had only just become mine after a long futile search by lawyers for any other remaining members of his family.

The house looked forlorn, with its sagging upper porch, the lower porch lying on the ground in pieces, although the steps leading up to where it had been were still in place and looking strong.

(not quite what I pictured in my head but you get the idea, thanks google images)

Window glass was mostly broken, with the tattered rags of what appeared to be red velvet curtains fluttering through them. A flagstone path led the way through wide, shady oak trees, dripping from the recent rain, and flower beds dotted the large lawn areas. The grass was much too long now to be called a lawn, but a few weekends of work would soon sort that out.

I still wasn’t sure if I would sell the place or live in it after I’d fixed it up. It reminded me of the plantation houses I’d seen in movies, with a huge double doorway entrance, presumably for old-fashioned skirts with wide hoops and many petticoats to swing through.

A clump of bright blue off to my left caught my eye, and I pushed through the long grass to find a bed of bachelor’s buttons, easily recognised because my mother also grew them. Maybe they were a sign I should stay? 

(bachelor's buttons, also known as cornflowers, thanks again, google images)


I could see the potential in the bones of the house.

I could also see the miles and miles of fields behind it. That was far too much land for me. Perhaps I could sell those fields to farmers on either side? Just keep the acre the house stood on and a small section behind it for a vegetable garden.

I sighed and walked back to the path leading to the porch. I climbed the steps, thankfully they were as strong as they looked and leaped across the gap to the doorstep. Clinging to the handle, I managed to turn it and push the door open. A large, solid object moved aside as I pushed and I soon found it to be an overturned plush green sofa. I stood it upright and sat down a moment to relieve my aching feet. I’d definitely have to get something done about my bunion if I was going to work at restoring this place.

As I walked through, inspecting each room in turn, I came to a decision. Sell the fields, use the money to restore the house and live here for at least a year before making any final decision.