The bloody things are now popping open with gossamer filaments attached to seeds just waiting to be carried by the breeze to infect some other unsuspecting host. Even the resident horticulturalist doesn't know what it is, just that it's BAD. Shame, it's strangely beautiful.
I've given up on the ducks. There are too many to keep shooing so they can have the pool until the chicks hatch. Hey, we're not going to use it until November. Everyone is pairing up and getting nesty for the spring so I guess once they mate and lay, they'll wonder off which is usually the case. The duck poo on the coping stones is thick and sticky and nothing short of a pressure hose and a good dose of bleach will prevent us from having a nice dose of e-choli in the summer. What can you do? Their water holes are diminishing and a naturally aqua coloured pool (we thought a blue pool would look a bit silly amid our wild green and brown garden), to them it just seems like another pond. (I'm ALMOST too embarrassed to show you a photo of the pool party! These are Aussie Wood Ducks which apparently nest in trees although I've never seen a nest. Just look at the mess!
Although I have to remind myself that it actually looks like this after a bit of TLC
Um . .no that's not me . . except in my mind's eye! I am a legend in my own lunchtime!
So, as the chill moves in and the evening approaches. It's alone at home again . . Ad's is off playing PS3 at Otley's and has finally worked out that a splitter will enable them to play on two screens so I've hired a couple of DVD's and am about to put on the heater, pour a chardy and hunker down for the night with Miss Faithful.
Oh and admire the flowers that I bought myself . .
My baby is flying to London tonight . . .one door closes, and another one opens . . .safe trip Possum! By the looks of it, she's conquered the Gringo trail, the east and west coast of north America and eastern Canada over the past five months and ready to take on Europe! Her hair has grown . . as her chin by the looks of it . . miss her like a limb. Poor fringelet has to deal with big hugs whenever I see her . .love that girl and just want to squeeze the life out of her . . .
And while I'm uploading all of this, I'm listening to Triple J and realising that Sara Blascoe's version of Flame Trees is truly lovely and that The Streets does have one or two decent songs. So , as I head into an evening of mushroom risotto and DVD's a calm has washed over me . . enjoy - this is for you ClareBear. And that damned alarm is going off again! I'm such a mum.