LATE

Silence
that
seems
absolute.

Slowly,
familiar
sounds
become
apparent.

Tiny
tick
of
the
clock.

The
click
in
my
neck
when
I
turn
my
head.

The
dog
turning,
nesting
in
his
bed.

Refrigerator
hum.

A
single
drip
of
water
from
the
tap.

The
phone
rings.

Your
voice
in
my
ear
is
like
a
caress.

CHILLY

Leaf.

Curled Eucalyptus leaf lying on the track.

Pea gravel.

(for lj)

These are truely the colours of Australia

Uprooted tree.

This lies in the middle of the local bush park. Left where it fell several years ago, it provides a perch for Galahs and a seat for me when Dog has gone exploring.

Boulder.

This great rough cube of rock rests on a slope in the trees. As the sun moves through the sky, the rock changes colour.

A cold start today at 8 degrees celsius (click here to convert to fahrenheit). The best weather for walking with Dog. Chilly air, damp earth and a light mist on the paddocks. Oh, and I remembered the camera.

(click on highlighted text for links and images to enlarge).

PILGRIMS ( The remake)

Knowleypowley left a comment about my Pilgrims post ( he being one of the jolly pilgrims). The excellent Chaucerian tribute below is by comedian Bill Bailey (who plays Manny in the UK comedy series 'Black Books').

To see Bill Bailey perform this piece go here and follow instructions from knowleypowley

Three fellowes wenten into a pubbe,

And gleefullye their handes did rubbe,

In expectatione of revelrie,

For 'twas the houre known as happye.

Greate botelles of wine did they quaffe,

And hadde a reallye good laffe.'

Til drunkennesse held full dominione,

For 'twas two for the price of one.

Yet after wine and meade and sac,

Man must have a massive snack,

Great pasties from Cornwalle!

Scottishe eggs round like a balle!

Great hammes, quaile, ducke and geese!

They suck'd the bones and drank the grease!

(One fellowe stood all pale and wan,

For he was vegetarianne)

Yet man knoweth that gluttonie,

Stoketh the fyre of lecherie,

Upon three young wenches round and slye,

The fellowes cast a wanton eye.

One did approach, with drunkene winke
"'Ello darlin', you fancy a drink?",

Soon they caught them on their knee,

'Twas like some grotesque puppettrie!

Such was the lewdness and debaucherie -

'Twas like a sketch by Dick Emery!

(Except that Dick Emery is not yet borne -So such comparisonne may not be drawn).

But then the fellowes began to pale,

For quail are not the friende of ale!

And in their bellyes much confusione!

From their throats vile extrusione!

Stinking foule corruptionne!

Came spewinge forth from droolinge lippes,

The fetide stenche did fille the pubbe,

'Twas the very arse of Beelzebubbe!

Thrown they were, from the Horne And Trumpette,

In the street, no coyne, no strumpet.

Homeward bounde, must quicklie go,

To that ende - a donkey stole!

Their handes all with vomit greased,

(The donkey was not pleased,

And threw them into a ditche of shite!)

They all agreed: "What a brillant night!"

Thankyou KP.

SOFT

Eleven p.m.

A paw is placed delicately on my knee.

A pair of ears twitches and I swear an eyebrow is raised.

'Oh, come on then. Wait, while I pull the quilt over.'

He curls up next to me. Not at the other end of the sofa, but hard against my leg. His head rests half on my thigh and half on the laptop, his ear tickling the back of my hand as I type.

It rained earlier tonight and he seemed to exhibit great joy patrolling the fence line, almost prancing and then lying in wet leaves, panting.

I can smell the scent of rain and damp earth on his fur.

I stop typing to stroke him.

Soft.

He sleeps deeply now, dreaming.

His paws contract, eyelids flicker and the tip of his tail is waving tentatively against his tucked back leg.

His breath is short and sharp and his heart rate increases under my hand as I stroke his side.

He wakes, yawns and rolls onto his back.

This little tale will have to stop..... a chest scratch has been indicated.

PILGRIMS

Weary of foot, they arrived in Canterbury...

The Cathedral tower above their heads and

the gate that lead to Holy Pardons.

But, all was well, as previously at the Tabard Inn,

the pilgrims had broken their fast.

(for two of my favourite men)



( click on highlighted text for links. The link to the tower has time lapse photography of the Cathedral and is quite beautiful)

N

( from Spell with Flickr)

Suse from PEA SOUP blog has bequeathed me the letter N from her Scrabble bag. Now what should I do with it? Good things? Bad things? Poetry? Photographs? No, just keep it simple and let my mind take a walk.

Nn = Verdana

Nn = Trebuchet

Nn = Times

Nn= Lucinda Grande

Nn = Georgia

Nn = Courier

Nn = Arial

From the time that I learnt to write, the shape of letters has always fascinated me. Sitting at my desk as a five year old and watching the teacher write letters on the blackboard. Listening to her descriptions of what the letters could represent. A is for, B is for, etc. Trying hard to be neat in my little lined work book and failing miserabley.

My Pa could (and still does) use Italic script. I can remember trying to copy it. Enjoying the beauty of the letters as they scrolled across the page. At secondary school we were taught to use Italic and gradually my handwriting began to flow, using an 'Osmiroid' fountain pen, that I filled from a squat bottle of Quink blue/black ink. The scent of the ink stays with me still.

An art teacher introduced us to Fonts. Something that had gone unnoticed by me until then. Now I find some are easier to read than others ( this being the year of glasses for reading). I tend to choose 'Verdana', or ' Arial' when typing as they seem clear, clean and elegant to my eyes.

NnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNnNn.

(click on highlighted text for links)

TESSERAE

Mosaic

There is something mediative about cutting tiles and finding you have cut them perfectly. Thinking about what to apply next and fossicking through boxes of oddments, finding a glittering glass bead or marble.

Hours can flit by while hands, eye and mind are engaged in planning and creating. Notebooks are full of designs. Hardware, tile and charity shops become treasure troves, full of coveted curiosities. Found objects can shine like beacons in a piece of work.

Inspiration for design is everywhere. Nature, photographs, books, packaging and architecture. All of which can fire an idea for the next project. Right now abstract patterns catch my eye. But the plans, oh, the plans for new pots, panels and poles. I may well have to move into the studio to complete them all.

LINKS

PLAY

HISTORY

I WISH

(click on images to enlarge and links for Mosaics)

GREEN

Echivera

grapefruit tree

Mint

Sad mandarin tree

Rosemary

The garden may be a pallete of brown, but here and there some plants are determined to survive the 41c heat. It is a hard battle though. Even the Echivera that thrives in dry heat is turning crispy at the edges. This happens every year and then it brightens up with some rain.

The grapefruit tree stands wilting under the high blue sky. It perks up when I water it twice a week with water from the washing machine.

Mint, well there is never any problem with mint, so long as I water it when I remember. The bright yellow and green Olive tin where it resides also adds a little colour to the patio.

The Mandarin tree is very sad. I think I over-pruned it last year. At the moment it provides a handy hook for the bird bath...this is appreciated by the Willy Wagtails and Silver Eye birds

The Rosemary continues to flourish after I divested it of a colony of white fly earlier in the year.

(click on highlighted text for image and sound of birds. Click on images to enlarge.)

CAKE

Today,

at the tender age of 47,

I realised a childhood ambition.

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*
*
*
*

I had cake for lunch.

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

Just cake.

*
*
*
*
*
*
*

Two pieces.

*
*
*
*
*
*
*

And it is not my birthday.

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*
*
Sod the diet.

BLUE RUSTY SHED

Most mornings the hound and I pass this shed.

Depending on the time of day, the sun hits it at different angles.

Sometimes the roof is a glowing blue,

sometimes a dull grey,

But always there is rust. Ochre rust.

Rust, that is part of the landscape, here in Australia.

Some rusty links:-

HERE ( Avus and Vita, you might like the motorcycle sculptures!)

HERE and HERE

LISTENING

I arrive at her door, knock and by mutual agreement, walk in and call out to her.

'Hallo Grace it's me.'

'Oh, you're here. I've had such a bad night, I can't tell you. This bloody eczema is driving me mad and I don't know why it's like it is today, but, well. Oh, I see her next door has got her washing out already. Already mind! She woke me up at six o'clock banging around in her bathroom.'

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Come on , maybe a cool shower will do the trick and then I'll help you put on some lotion.'

'Doubt it, but we might as well try. Eeh, then I had to get up at one o'clock and turn the damned chiming clock off. You know it was keeping me a wake and what with the itching. Well, then I got up again later and just wished I could get in the shower by myself, but knew I mustn't. But what am I to do about this itching, what am I to do?

'Now I must find my glasses, couldn't find them all weekend and then I must make the bed. Do you know I went out yesterday with May from down the road. We went for a coffee in that new place in the village. You know the one I mean? I can't eat too much these days, not after my op. last year and my word but the slice of cake they served me was far too big, I had to leave half of it and then the coffee tasted dreadful. But eeh, it was nice to see May again.

Well, blow me down! Look outside. She hanging more washing out. She lives alone like me you know. How she gets through so many clothes beats me. Did I tell you I had a bad night? Oh, and I haven't had any breakfast yet and I really fancy toast and banana today. Well I wonder what the weather is going to be like today? Can't stand the heat and I've lived here for nearly forty years now. Now glasses, where are the damned things? Oh, here they are on the table staring me straight in the face.'

( Names have been changed)

Image by The Bear.

SOFA

He is not allowed on the new sofa.

He is not allowed on the new sofa.

He is not allowed on the new sofa.

Two weeks later...

Well, maybe if the old quilt is over one end of the sofa.

Nuff said.