Sometimes on the way to your dream,

you get lost and find a better one.

Sunday, October 29, 2017

spring breezes

It's wonderfully breezy here today and sunny too, so I've opened both windows, one front, one back, and both doors too. 
One front and one back.
That's all I have, but it's enough. 
Who wants to clean miles of windows?

can you imagine? This is a house for sale here in Adelaide, all sides, all levels, have these floor to ceiling windows. The views are fabulous, but oh, the cleaning..

Anyway, the breezes are blowing through bringing me lots of lovely fresh air. Unfortunately they are also blowing mountains of cat fluff out from under the bed and couch. I have to keep my eyes firmly focused on the screen here, lest I break down and drag out the vacuum cleaner (*~*)

Sunday Selections #351

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 small selection today, beginning with something I noticed in my kitchen>>

We have hard water here in Adelaide and mineral deposits are frequent in our kettles:

there it is beginning to coat the bottom and creeping up the sides.

this is the removable filter that filters the water as you pour it into your cup, you can see it is also coated.

time for the vinegar treatment.

soaking in a bowl of 50-50 water and vinegar and the filter is clean three hours later, ready to be scrubbed and rinsed well.

into the kettle goes one cup of white vinegar, then fill it to maximum level with water, turn it on.

when it gets to a rolling boil, switch it off manually and quickly open the lid before it boils all over your sink, which it will do because of the vinegar if you don't watch and turn it off.
Then close the lid and let it stand for several hours or overnight. I always do overnight.

In the morning, empty out the vinegar-water mix, fill your kettle to maximum and boil it, then empty it. This removes traces of vinegar. Then repeat this step to fully remove all traces of any vinegar still remaining.
yes, that's right, empty the vinegar-water mix, then fill and boil the kettle TWICE. Empty and then your kettle is clean and ready to use again.

ready for my morning coffee.

my new bar of hand soap is very pretty and smells like roses, I've noticed too, that the roses fragrance stays on my skin for quite a while after.

neighbour V has a pot of lovely cyclamen right by her front door. I spend quite a bit of time with her every Wednesday. I'm not usually a chatty person, managing a few sentences before wishing I could run away home, but with V I lose track of time as we talk for hours.

here is Lola, making herself comfortable in my spot, again with the crossed paws :)

across town, the new houses in a block very near my daughter,

have the second story construction begun. This is the back of the townhouses,


and this is the front.

lastly, the lemon verbena that survived such a rough pruning,

is beginning to flower :)












Friday, October 27, 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  Cindi and can be found here.


This week's words are:


1. pendulum
2. haunted
3. seven
4. wax
5. raven
6. scream

and/or:

1. tales
2. fly
3. tingler
4. invisible
5. usher
6. diary

and an image, which I have included.

Here is my story, part two of one I posted three weeks ago:

 Seven of us sat around the big, square, polished library table. In the background, in the shadowy corner, we could see the grandfather clock, with the soft tic-toc of the swinging pendulum the only sound. Tales had been told, tears had been shed and there seemed to be nothing left to say. The sombre atmosphere of the funeral matched the low-hanging dark grey clouds. It was winter so the trees were bare of leaves and a solitary raven cawed softly and began to fly away as the coffin was lowered into its final resting place.

We all felt the invisible presence of Briony, her spirit standing with us as her body was buried. A quickly stifled scream from Camille as the first shovelful of earth was dropped on top of the flowers we had each thrown in. 


As we walked away, all of us glanced up the hill to the empty farmhouse, reputed to be haunted, where Briony had been found by Sally Taylor, who had been part of the search party. Briony had been missing for two days. At first the grounds had been searched, then the lake and then the township had been gone through with a fine tooth comb, with no trace at all of Briony. 

As one, we turned up the hill and trudged up to the farmhouse, carefully lifting the crime scene tape from the doorway and let ourselves in. Now we sat around the library table, which Camille had polished with her sleeve as Cameron wound up the old clock with the key hanging on a string from the cabinet handle. 



It was the old Thompson place, no one had lived here for fifty years, since Estelle Thompson had been found dead in her upstairs bed. The last of the Thompsons, she was supposed to have been taken to the hospital the next day, in spite of weak protestations that she was still hale and hearty. "Strong as an ox," she'd said. Or so we'd heard. 

"We're not supposed to be here," said Camille.
"But this is where Briony is," said Wendy. "I can still feel her."
"Why would she come up here?" said Cameron. "And when?"
"Why didn't she tell anyone where she was going? We all thought she was down at the Town Square, listening to that brass band she liked so much," said Bryan.
"She's been very moody lately, ever since she found that old diary," said Jenny. "Does anyone know what was in that thing? Did she share?"


"Not a word," said Emma. A sudden creaking from the back of the house had us all jumping a bit, spines tingling. Margaret said, "I think we should get out of here. All that burned section at the back might be more unstable than it looks."


"How did it get burned anyway? I heard old Estelle Thompson died in her sleep, she wouldn't have had a fire going, it was summer when she died," said Cameron.
"I heard it was a bunch of kids holding a seance, trying to ask Estelle questions about the fortune that's supposed to be buried somewhere in the grounds. They got drunk and the candle burned to the floor and set the carpet alight and they all just ran away and left it burning," said Kathleen.


"That's exactly right," said a voice from the doorway. We all jumped in fright as Sally Taylor came into the room. "I remember that night," she said. "My sister was part of that group and our Dad gave her such lecture when she got home, there was yelling and crying and Betty throwing up from being drunk and Mum saying she was grounded for life. It was a hell of a night."
"Now, what are you all doing up here? Mr Grissom saw you all going up the hill and when you didn't come down, he called the police. I was still at the station, telling what I knew about this place, so I came to find you all." 


"Briony brought us here," said Camille. "We felt her with us at the grave and when we were leaving she made us all turn up the hill and we saw the spot where her body was by the stairs, then she brought us in here and we just sat and talked about when she was one of us until she found that old diary and got all moody."


"What's in that diary anyway? Has anyone read it yet? We know the police took it with all her other stuff."
"We don't know anything yet, Cammie," said Sally. "The forensics people down in the city have it, they're doing some carbon dating to see how old it is and they have to be careful of the fragile pages. Do you know if Briony ever opened it?"
"None of us know anything," said Bryan. "She kept it wrapped up and carried it everywhere, but none of us saw a thing except the cover before she wrapped it up. Looked like leather, but old and cracked, dirty too."


"Is it true what they say about dead people? Your skin looks like it's made of wax?" said Margaret. 

"That is true," said Sally, "every body that comes down to the morgue looks like the skin is made from wax, very smooth and lifeless, unless they have visible injuries. But we shouldn't be talking about this now or here. Get your coats back on and come on out. We'll go down to the cafe and have hot drinks before I take you all back to the school." 

Sally ushered them all outside and didn't bother replacing the crime scene tape. The evidence people had been finished days ago and there'd been no crime here, just a  broken step where Briony had caught her boot heel and fallen onto the sharp edge of a broken flagstone.

 

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Whimsical Wednesday # 302

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.


Which would you choose? Bacon or youth?
 

Sunday, October 22, 2017

Sunday Selections #350

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.


Today I'm showing you spring in Adelaide, South Australia

All my purple pelargoniums have bloomed at once

pretty?

this is one of the cuttings I started last year, the flower is a deep red, almost black. I'm hoping it does well, it isn't looking very good right now, but with watering it should pick up.

a neighbour has a bed of yellow iris that really light up their corner

 
 
the white cedar tree began blooming a couple of weeks ago and I didn't notice, just wondered why I suddenly had stuffy headaches.

it is covered in zillions of tiny pale purple flowers and the beginnings of what will be an avalanche of the yellow berries that will cover the footpath and driveway. 

how perfect is this snowy white geranium?

and this ruffly pink and white reminds me of little girls party dresses from long ago. I'm going to ask if I can take a cutting from this one.

another neighbour has snapdragons in a range of colours. I've planted plenty of these in years past,  but they have never grown for me.

we have small lakes of statice,

the colour is more intense in close up

and we have roses>>

like this gorgeous apricot climbing over a porch support,

and running in rivers along the driveway,

in pinks,

yellows,

and white.

and look at this! multi shades beginning with egg-yolk orange buds, opening to bright yellows, fading into white as the age and die. All on the one bush, all on the one stem actually. I could cut just one stem and have a bouquet 😎 and I would if they weren't so covered in aphids 😟

the lemon scented wattle bloomed without me noticing, by now most of the fragrance is gone, can you tell how wide it is? It's in the property next door to the community area here, it's a derelict property which has recently been sold and I very much hope the new owners don't cut down this tree when they demolish the house to rebuild.

look how packed it is with little balls of fluff,

here's a closer look. it's my favourite of all the wattles.
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday, October 20, 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 Cindi and can be found here.


This week's words are:


1. clown
2. tunnels
3. children
4. nightmares
5. water
6. friends 

and/or:

1. visions
2. red
3. courage
4. asthma
5. recurrence
6. hide

also an image which I have included

here is my story:

I'd had nightmares for years, ever since coming to live with Aunt Julie and Uncle Bradley. I knew they worried about me, I worried too. The nightly visions where I watched myself running through endless tunnels ankle deep in muddy water, always looking over my shoulder to where a bunch of bright red balloons floated free against a misty sky.



I would wake screaming and thrashing and Aunt Julie would rush in to cuddle me while Uncle Bradley got a damp, cool washcloth to clean the sweat and tears off my face. Each night I tried to tell them, but all I could do was gasp and gulp for air until my chest closed and I would be in the grip of another asthma attack.


In desperation, Uncle Bradley made an appointment for me with the family doctor and Aunt Julie drove me to the building where Doctor Vincent had agreed to see me at the end of his scheduled appointments.
Aunt Julie reassured me, saying how nice he was, always calm, children loved him. "Dr Vincent isn't the kind of Doctor who gives injections and listens to your heart and lungs," she said. "He talks to you and tries to sort out what might be in the forgotten part of your mind, to see if something you've forgotten is causing the bad dreams."


We arrived at the office just as the last patient before me was leaving, a smallish girl who held herself tensely, but smiled as I passed her, so that seemed a good sign. We went in and Aunt Julie introduced me. I shook hands with the Doctor and he smiled, "that's a good firm handshake Will, do you mind if I call you Will? Or do you prefer William?"


"Will is fine," I said. "All my friends call me Will." "It's good that you have friends," Doctor Vincent said. "Do you ever tell them about your nightmares?" "No," I said. "Usually it gets muddled by the time I'm eating breakfast and it doesn't seem worth talking about. We're usually all talking about the next soccer match or the arithmetic test or something like that."


We chatted for a while, with Aunt Julie answering a few questions too, then Doctor Vincent asked me what I remembered about my parents. "Nothing much," I said. "My head hurts when I try to remember, all I know is their names were Vivian and Michael. They died suddenly, then I went to live with Aunt Julie and Uncle Bradley."
"No other memories of the time before they died?" said Dr Vincent. I shook my head which was beginning to hurt. I scrunched my eyes a bit against the glare of sun through a side window.


"Why don't you go over to the small bookshelf and look at the books for a while, I'd like to talk to Aunt Julie for a moment. Is that alright with you?" I nodded and walked away from the big polished desk, to the small bookshelf on a blue rug in the corner. 

I could hear what Aunt Julie was saying, "it was a couple of days after his birthday party, someone broke into their house looking for money and jewellery I suppose. Vivian was an heiress, there were a lot of valuable antiques, including several diamond set necklaces handed down for generations.
The police found Michael with the phone still in his hand, he'd phoned the emergency service, they found Will crouched under his bed, so frightened he couldn't speak. it was eventually thought someone from the party, a guest perhaps, had seen things inside the house and couldn't resist, came back to burgle them, then killed Viv and Mike when they resisted. We think Will saw the whole thing, but he was never able to say anything."


"I see," said Dr Vincent. How old was Will at the time? Would he remember who was at the party? Or what about you? Were you there?"  "I was there," said Aunt Julie. "A lot of Will's friends from school, he was just turning six that day, they were running about playing hide and seek," she stopped as I began to shake and moan, holding my head.
"No, no," I said. "Don't talk about the party, don't talk, don't talk."


Doctor Vincent came to the blue rug and sat with me. Very gently, he said, "I think we have to, Will. It might be time to gather all your courage and learn what happened so there isn't another recurrence of the nightmares. Now, how about you tell me what you remember. Think back, right back, to the morning before people arrived, what do you see?"

His voice had become hypnotic as he rubbed my back, and I felt myself going back to that day even though I didn't want to. I told Dr Vincent about the cake waiting in the kitchen, the hide and seek game, Bobby falling in the fishpond and getting all wet. Then, a blank spot. Nothing in my head.


Aunt Julie prompted me, "that's when the clown arrived. Don't you remember the clown Will? He had a carload of big red balloons."  The clown popped into my head and I shrieked and shrieked, "No, no! No clown, he's a bad clown, he came back, he wanted Mummy's things, he hurt Mummy and Daddy, I don't like him, make him go away!"
Tears were streaming and my head felt like it might explode.

Aunt Julie had a shocked look on her face as Doctor Vincent went to the phone and quietly made a call. I was gasping and gulping just like after my nightmares and remembered the part of the dream I always forgot. The clown was chasing me with his bunch of balloons, telling me he would hurt me too if I ever told anyone.

Doctor Vincent came back to the rug with a cup of water for me, "this will help,"  he said and I swallowed the mild sedative and was calmer by the time the police arrived at his office. Uncle Bradley came soon after and we all sat on the blue rug, which became quite crowded with so many people. We all chatted companionably as if it were a Sunday afternoon picnic, but at last I was able to tell what had happened.



Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Whimsical Wednesday #301

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.


Too many times to count?
 

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Sunday Selections # 349

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.


It's bottle-brush season here again>>

and they are everywhere. everywhere I say! Aaatchooo!

the fence surrounding the local MacDonald's carpark is looking nice

remember the foundation poured on the corner block near K's house? We all decided it was a very big house. Turns out it isn't. This is the back of the construction,

and this is the front. Four townhouses are being built, two storey.

here is the front again from the other end.

And this is what they will look like>>

house-garage, garage-house; small gap, house-garage, garage-house.
Modern, but not too bad looking, rather nice in fact.

the Lemon Verbena I trimmed so drastically has made a remarkable comeback; you might remember a few Sundays ago I showed new leaves beginning. These are all on the right hand side,

and on the left where the branches were all so very dead, new growth coming straight from the trunk,
and a bit lower down>>

Look at that! I'll need to trim off that broken bit before someone stabs herself in the hip with it, but I'd say the little tree is well on the way to recovery 😎

What's this in my newly opened tin of Milo?

Huh. Cricket collector cards. I never look at the label on my Milo, just grab the size I always buy and toss it in my basket. Not a trolley, not a cart, just a little hand-basket.
 


Lastly>>

Lola, enjoying Angel's big scratching tower.
 
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
 
 

Friday, October 13, 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 Cindi and can be found here.


This week's words are:


1. electricity
2. grief
3. laboratory
4. slaughterhouse
5. kiss
6. amuse

and/or:

1. melancholy
2. murder
3. ravine
4. laugh
5. sensations
6. violent

here is my story:

 The murder scene resembled a slaughterhouse, one of the older style ones, before hoses and drains became commonplace in such places. Blood pooled on most of the floor and splattered the walls clear up to the ceiling, with a few drops hanging from the ceiling fan. This had been a violent act indeed. The small window separating the room from the laboratory next door was smeared as if someone had swiped a bloody hand across the glass. A streak along the floor under that window and stretching to an outer door indicated the killer had dragged the bodies that way. 

Officer Landry shone his torch along the doorjamb until he found a light switch, he flicked it on and wasn't at all surprised to find there was no electricity. It followed the killer's pattern of cutting all wires leading into the building. He either knew his way around the building, or used some type of infra red lamp, perhaps night vision goggles, to find his victims. He radioed the team waiting outside to search the perimeter for the painted-in-blood kiss and the tape recorder with a maniacal laugh that this horrific offender always left behind.


Always just a generic available-anywhere type of recorder, no fingerprints, no speech, just the laugh. They couldn't get any voice recognition from that. Officer Landry's grief at yet more good citizens meeting this terrible fate shook him to his core. Somewhere, sometime, this murderer would make a mistake, drop something, leave a footprint or fingerprint and then there would be some way to track him down. 


He wondered what sensations the killer felt each time he did this. Did he find amusement in being 'smarter' than his victims? Did he suffer melancholy when coming down from such a 'high'? Did he then drop into a ravine of deep depression that could only be relieved by another kill?


The general consensus of his team was they needed to catch this man and the sooner the better. A sudden tiny noise caused Officer Landry to hold up his hand and shush the team. A soft knocking came from inside the darkened laboratory beyond the blood soaked room. Officer Landry eased open the door with his latex-gloved hand and listened for a moment. "Is anybody in here?" he said quietly. More soft knocking led him to a cabinet under the sink, where a laboratory assistant was hiding. 

The poor young fellow had wet his pants with fear and cried all the way to the police station. He continued to shake violently even after being wrapped in a warm blanket and given a cup of hot coffee. He wasn't on the roster for tonight, had stopped in hoping for a few extra hours to help cover his rent. 

"That's probably the only reason you're still alive," said Officer Landry. This killer usually knows exactly how many people are in whichever building he's targeted. "We may have just caught the break we need, thanks to you."

 

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Whimsical Wednesday # 300

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.

I love Calvin and Hobbes is pretty cute too 😎