Despite the fact that I spent too much of yesterday afternoon attempting to replace the basic background on this blog with something prettier, and more in keeping, I still had time to think about the cryptic crossword in my magazine. I concluded the background I was trying to upload just was not compatible [or maybe it was my inexperience], but when I found another site offering backgrounds, and after clicking through the selection I finally found what I wanted, and uploaded it with ease!
This morning I worked on my cryptic crossword, in between washing and hoeing out melons that sprung to light after the rain of last week, and by lunch time had succeeded in completing all the squares in the puzzle. My day was made!
It is one of those days when, after the searing heat of a long summer, a cool wind that whispers of rain, though probably further inland, that the sloth of summer dissipates and energy surges [well almost] through the body. Chasing melons presented no problems. I know that the hundreds I chopped out this morning will be replaced by their relatives within a few days, but every seedling melon destroyed now, means one less plant with many melons to seed for another time.
It was thinking of melons that sent my mind back to my first glimpse of what I thought were extraordinary plants; they grew in wild profusion near Lake Austin, and I clearly remember asking for the car to stop, allowing me to take a photo, and examine them closely. Now, a few years later, and a much closer acquaintance with this common weed, my only interest is in stopping them flower.
Lake Austin is not far from Cue, that northern town WA; the place where I spent 18 months adjusting to a different country, and a vastly different climate. Cue, a relic of gold mining times, has wonderful stone buildings, a main street that reminds one of the 'wild west', though today trucks, and trucks, and a few cars traverse the main street that has an avenue of bottlebrush trees running down its centre. The red of the bottle brush flowers, the deep green of their leaves contrasts directly with the red dirt and the ancient stone buildings. One can almost believe that life stands still in Cue ... an illusion ... Cue like every small town has a slower pace of life, but it is very much alive.
This morning I worked on my cryptic crossword, in between washing and hoeing out melons that sprung to light after the rain of last week, and by lunch time had succeeded in completing all the squares in the puzzle. My day was made!
It is one of those days when, after the searing heat of a long summer, a cool wind that whispers of rain, though probably further inland, that the sloth of summer dissipates and energy surges [well almost] through the body. Chasing melons presented no problems. I know that the hundreds I chopped out this morning will be replaced by their relatives within a few days, but every seedling melon destroyed now, means one less plant with many melons to seed for another time.
It was thinking of melons that sent my mind back to my first glimpse of what I thought were extraordinary plants; they grew in wild profusion near Lake Austin, and I clearly remember asking for the car to stop, allowing me to take a photo, and examine them closely. Now, a few years later, and a much closer acquaintance with this common weed, my only interest is in stopping them flower.
Lake Austin is not far from Cue, that northern town WA; the place where I spent 18 months adjusting to a different country, and a vastly different climate. Cue, a relic of gold mining times, has wonderful stone buildings, a main street that reminds one of the 'wild west', though today trucks, and trucks, and a few cars traverse the main street that has an avenue of bottlebrush trees running down its centre. The red of the bottle brush flowers, the deep green of their leaves contrasts directly with the red dirt and the ancient stone buildings. One can almost believe that life stands still in Cue ... an illusion ... Cue like every small town has a slower pace of life, but it is very much alive.
1 comment:
I like your photo's and the paddy melons (that's what they are called here) look like a really healthy crop. Pity they are not good for anything
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