The Spring Surge

As 'August Mine' sinks to 'August Lost', my winter life boat succumbs to the unstoppable spring ocean.
Good wife Elizabeth, if not puritanical and angelical-she smokes, drinks, and is prone to occasional outbursts of strong cursing-is a wholesome, well intentioned woman dedicated to the nutrition and wellbeing of her husband and sons, and the bringing of peace and dignity to the last days of the geriatric residents at Salibury House.
In a serious error of judgement, Elizabeth brought home an 8 week old Jack Russell pup on August 2, despite my counsel not to do so. I do forgive her. She is headstrong at times. I accept that we're all the product of a rich confusion of genes conflated by the passions of our parents. Molly and Bill in Lib's case, and it must have been late in 1955. We recently celebrated Lib's 51st birthday on the 22nd.
I simply don't have time to describe the household mayhem that baby dog 'Pippa' has wrought. She has grown miraculously in three weeks, doubling in size. If she develops a brain, over time, I may well have a new challenge- to take two dogs on my walk. For now, I lock her in the laundry with a fresh bone and make my escape.

The magpies warble before dawn, a joyous song. The hillsides, valleys and roadsides are splashed with the yellow of wattle blossom and puffs of pink and white prunus. Shocks of red and pink camellia and rhodie blooms bring gardens to life, teeming with nectar seeking wattlebirds and spinebills .
It's impressive, the baton change from winter to spring. It takes some adjustment. By mid morning I'm taking off my shirt and removing the T-shirt I'm still in the habit of donning first thing. And, out of the habit of taking a drink bottle, I develop a thirst along the way.
It's a bit of a shock after the cold of winter, as was the sting I copped yesterday. I was picking foliage at home for my mixed bunches and noticed the bees flying heavily in the 25C sun. There were dead bees at the entrance to the hive, which is not unusual at the end of winter as the bees are mostly old overwintered adults nearing the end of their lifespan. I bent over to have a closer sticky beak, not wearing my glasses, and a guard bee made the proverbial beeline the two or three feet to my face and stung me in the left eyebrow. It must have smelled a little sweat on my brow. As happens early in the season, before the immunity to stings returns, particularly on the face, I've swelled up and look like I've been fighting and came off second best.
The only thing missing is rain. August has been worringly dry and I'm about to plant heaps of stuff. But if the ants in the pantry swarming all over Gord's sauce bottles are an indicator, there's rain coming. Oh for a wet September!

Roxanne and Ruby

As I tied 'Snowy' to the post outside the newsagency this morning, the 7.ooam news on the radio reported a poll had found that John Howard would struggle to hold the seat of Benelong in the upcoming federal election. Always an admirer of Maxine McKew when she was a TV presenter and journalist, this tickled my sense of humour as I thought of the great joy a Howard unseating would bring ALP supporters. And just desserts to George Bush's buddy.
I walked into the newsagency and said to Roxanne, who was filling in for Robin who usually does the early shift on Mondays, "Almost makes you wish you lived in Benelong so you could vote for Maxine McKew, doesn't it?"
Roxanne looked at me quizzically and said, "Who's Maxine McKew?"
Now Roxanne is a lovely kid about twenty years old, the same age as our boys. Not only did she not know who Maxine Mckew was, she didn't know what Benelong was. This was a an eye opener for me, showing what little interest many young ones have in politics. God love 'em and good luck to 'em.
Shortly afterwards I turned into Launching Place Rd. from the main road and could see a girl walking up the hill towards me on her way to catch the school bus. I recognized the bustling, serious gait as that of a lass who passes me sometimes and who always says hello with a warm friendly smile.
This time, more than our usual "hello", I asked was she Helen's daughter. Another time I thought I'd seen her come from Helen and Neil's house.
"Yes", she said, with her captivating smile.
"I'm Carey", what's your name?"
"Ruby." Our heads were now turned back as we walked on in opposite directions.
The name so fits the girl and the smile.
It was Roxanne and Ruby that got me in blogging mode today. I wrote about August first. I've been focused on work, to the point of agitation and irritability. Roxanne and Ruby broke the spell.

August, Mine

After two weeks in the sun in Bali in July, and the urgency before and after, to enable it, I consoled myself that August was mine to do seasonal work that would be be put back a year if not done this winter.
My mission for August, while one of my customers is away giving me a chance to do something other than picking for orders, is to prune, cull, and clean up the bottom paddock at the farm, making room for new plantings. I have numerous plants in pots ready to go in, plants I've collected and nurtured through the long hot summer and autumn. Another target is at Nobelius Heritage Park. We have set August 31 as the date to plant maples, magnolias and heritage apples, the commencement of the (long time coming to reality) Vegetation Management Plan.
At the farm it's very much hands on chainsaw work, and I've made a good start, cutting out a number of wattles, ti-trees and bluegums, but there's more to do this week. Then it needs dragging to a site for burning off to clear the way for planting. The plan is, when it's done, to have a memorial service for Lyle and disperse his ashes amongst the new understory plantings around the beech and oak trees. This part of the farm is nearest the creek and furthest from the road, a peaceful refuge.
In NHP the task is more organising others, and therefore may end up the more difficult. The trees have been ordered and the contractor organised to remove some large trees to make room. A contractor engaged by the council is to provide a man and machine to help me with the planting. A possible hitch is the coucil planning section, as we've not applied for a permit to remove the trees. Instead, months ago, we submitted the Management Plan to be passed as a whole, in order not to have to get a permit each time something needs taking out. The work will be ongoing over a period of years. No joy yet.
Touch wood and cross fingers!