Friday, November 13, 2009

Faded Blooms...


I'm sure you've all experienced days where you've felt like a flower past it's best...all those delicate petals bleached and faded by the harsh summer sun. A little frazzled around the edges, crispy to the touch, as if you'll just crumble to dust if someone touches you without care. That's exactly how I felt yesterday.
I have a feeling that I may have even smelt like linen that has been stored too long, fusty and dusty. The heat does not like me, nor I it.

Here are my peace roses feeling as fragile as myself.


Finally you can see how beneath the pink edges is a delicate's a shame that they're spent.

I've become completely nocturnal. The cat has given up on me ever coming to bed. The dog amuses himself eating things he oughtn't during the day. We're just not mentioning to the Children why the Thomas game is no longer in the lounge. All I can say is that at least he doesn't smell like he usually does when he gets into the compost.

Well it's a five year old birthday in the morning so I'm going to have to get some sleep before he wakes up. 
Talk again soon,

Monday, November 9, 2009

Litttle Boxes...

Hello All,

Tonight my friend Zak was asking me which suburbs he should look at living in when he moves back to Melbourne around Christmas time. So off the top of my head I had to try and think of names of suburbs that were within 15-20 minutes from the city by public transport, that also had low crime rates, and new apartments that weren't too expensive or catered to not having lived in Melbourne for a few years now I'm a bit out of touch with all that...and throw in on top of that I also had to factor in how cool the suburb was and how many bars were good to go out at. *big sigh* In the end I gave up and said anywhere between Kensington and Port Melbourne traveling clockwise around the city...but not if it has any old housing commission flats or it looks too industrial within cooee of his place. I know that I've ruled out a lot of groovy places to live, but trust me Zak wouldn't cope with them anyway. *sigh* Here is a song about the type of place Zak thinks he's too cool for, but insists upon renting. 

Little Boxes

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1962 Schroder Music Company, renewed 1990. 

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,1
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.



p.s. The roses from yesterday are Chicago Peace...I double checked with Maria today.

Can I grow roses or what???

Well it's been up and down again this week. The first hot spell of summer triggers a depression in me, I'm managing but barely :) Lots of time has been spent playing farmville and scrabble on facebook. John and I are fairly evenly matched when it comes to scrabble, and I must say it's been lovely catching up with him again on a daily basis...almost like when we were neighbours, only now he lives on the Gold Coast and I'm down here in Ballarat.

Oh for Halloween Zig and Kelly shouted me a tour of the old cemetery, which I had great fun attending. The tour belongs to my old friend Suze and her partner Nathanial, although was run on Halloween by another member of staff. This gent was almost identical to my uncle, in his mannerisims, deportment, attitude and ability to get so wrapped up in a topic that we ran over time by a good half hour...of which I enjoyed immensely. It's fascinating what you can learn from people who love their history. Aside from the usual Ballarat Eureka stories, there were side shoots off into Freemasonry, a snippet of Chinese history, Catholic and Anglican religious divergences and speculation on possible future convergence, the inevitability of death and taxes, and the odd nod to scottish or irish heritage. A fascinating evening all in all.

Apart from that I've been gardening, nothing mind blowing, mainly watering the veges, and weeding around the place. I've also managed to miss two parties this week, a two year old and a baby shower...just goes to show I honestly haven't been in the same world as everyone else this week.

Anyway, back to the topic which brought me online to blog  :) My roses...or should I say Nonna's roses. I think this one is older than me! I know that it moved from "Glenoe / The Pines (Croxton East)" to "Glenoevale (Hamilton)", then to "The Monastery Apartments (Ballarat)",  and finally to my place in Ballarat East. An aside for you; I'm considering calling this house Keith, but am not sure if I ought to wait and see if I end up with a bit of land big enough for a house and horse. Perhaps I'll call it Keith anyway, and then bring the name with me, the way "Glenoe", has shifted around the Western District. The original Glenoe was a couple of miles away from where it is now. The eldest of the three McIntyre brothers kept the original house, while the youngest of the three lived at "The Pines", as the family of the eldest brother died out and moved on, the house name was offered to my uncle, so that McIntyre descendants could continue living in a Glenoe in the Western District. The second of the brothers moved to Hamilton and built "Glenoevale", which my grandparents bought as their retirement farm (lol, nothing like keeping it all in the family). I asked Peter if it would be alright by him if I named a house after his dad, Keith. It's a nod to all my Scottish heritage, and a lovely way to remember Dad (as he was known to my branch of the family). Peter suggested that we use Dad's hand writing as the font for the sign, when we're ready. I ought to mention that Peter has converted samples of Dad's writing to a font for the computer, so it would be very easy to carve a sign by computer. He wrote a letter to his brothers as if he was Dad addressing them all from beyond the grave, which was hilarious since Dad didn't go in for all that after death stuff. As you may have noticed I'm one for being sidetracked's a Crawford trait. 

So back to the Roses! Here are a couple of pictures for you. I could tell a day or two ago that the big one was going to be magnificent. It's a shame you can't really see the creamy yellow that is at the base of each petal, although I do capture the wonderful pink quite well. lol, and nevermind about the scent, it's very pretty although the yellow roses I had inside earlier in the week were far more fragrant :)