Showers seem appropriate, on this Monday, the last day of November, following the rain on the weekend. As far as rainfall goes it's been a good spring, the best for years. The harvest for the grain croppers looked to be huge but sadly this last rain came at the wrong time before many crops could be taken off, and there's likelihood of damage and downgrading of a fair part of the wheat harvest.
Our spring harvest was mixed. The dogwood blossom was poor, no doubt suffering from low rainfall last spring and last summer's punishing heat. Dogwood sets its flower buds in the autumn, so this spring's rain couldn't help. I'd expect a bumper crop next year on the back of this spring's good rain and as a response to the 'off' year. Lilac was good quality, thanks to the September rain, but quantity poor, again probably due to the previous spring's dry and the extreme summer. Philadelphus, a native I think of Mexico and drought hardy, was excellent, but it all came in a hurry due to the warm settled weather at flowering so we didn't get to some of it in time. The beech foliage is good this year, no doubt the rain has helped growth and the lack of hot north winds during the growth spurt makes for good quality.
All things considered we've come through the year quite well given the terrible spring we had last year and the horrific heat of last summer. We bought another water tank at the farm and put a few around the house here at Gembrook. The cost of water in future is a serious threat to our viability but we can hope for some respite and a good harvest next year as a result of the wonderful rain lately. Next spring should be a beauty, harvest wise, fingers crossed. Another spring and summer like the previous season may well have just about been a KO for us.
I've enjoyed watching the birds raising their young. A pair of mudlarks had a nest on a limb of a peppermint tree over Agnes St. A blackbird pair were successful with their brood in a nest in a purple rhodie growing into the footpath near St Silas church. Another in our carport wasn't so lucky. When I came home from work one day I wasn't quick enough to stop 'Pip' grabbing a fledgling that fell from the nest. I rescued it from the dog but with blood coming from its mouth it died in my hand after a minute or two, saving me from my indecision as to whether to put it down as humanely as possible. Mr and Mrs Whippy have been calling in the garden but I haven't seen the young yet.
I can't recall a year when the pawlonias have flowered so profusely and long. There are two near the corner of La Souef Rd. that knocked my socks off for weeks when I walked past. The one in neighbours Steve and Anne's garden was great too. The blossom on the silky oaks has been more brilliant in its fiery orange than I've can ever recall, and the native frangipanni tree or hymenosporum was exceptional.
For weeks on end I smelled it at the bottom of Agnes St on my walk but couldn't see a tree. Then one day I saw neighbour Rick hanging out the washing so I called him over to the fence and asked him did he have one somewhere in the garden. Sure enough, there was, where I couldn't see it from the road. Pat and Lois, two Gembrook ladies who had a big garden on Launching Place Rd gave it to him and Allison in a pot many years ago when they used to walk their daughter that way in the pusher. It stayed in the pot a while and nearly died, then was planted and nearly mowed over many times as it sat and did nothing. Then one year it took off and now has teased me two springs in a row with its glorious scent till I found its location. Pat and Lois both died some years ago. It was good to hear the story and find the tree, now thriving, a living example of Pat and Lois's love of gardens and generosity. We have a young one in our garden, about five feet high. It had a single cluster of flowers this year so I'm looking forward to the joy of its blossom in our backyard next spring.
Thank God for the promise of Spring 2010.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
I Have Been To The Mountaintop
I have a dream. I dream day and night.
I day dream on my morning walk. I dream that people abandon their motor cars and walk and ride bikes, or catch solar electric shuttle buses. I see a time when humans revere peace and quite and silence. I see a 'Silence Day' once a week. No chainsaws, mowers, cars. Shops shut, no business. No noise at all, except in emergency. A day for walking, watching, listening, whispering, reading, dreaming.
In my dream, men and women of all creeds, colours and nationalities show others courtesy and respect. Goodness rules over evil. Decency, love and nurture is given freely, in a world of equality, devoid of greed and self interest, a world where people put out their hand to help the less fortunate. I see a clean green Earth where everyone has ample fresh water and food. A world without armies, weapons and viciousness. An Earth where Protties, Catholics, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddists, Jehovah's and athiests walk arm in arm with love of humanity and free spirit.
In my night dreams I am an exquisite and passionate lover, much sought after.
I like dreaming. In my dreams, everything is possible.
I try my best to live my dream.
It's free, and it beats reality.
I day dream on my morning walk. I dream that people abandon their motor cars and walk and ride bikes, or catch solar electric shuttle buses. I see a time when humans revere peace and quite and silence. I see a 'Silence Day' once a week. No chainsaws, mowers, cars. Shops shut, no business. No noise at all, except in emergency. A day for walking, watching, listening, whispering, reading, dreaming.
In my dream, men and women of all creeds, colours and nationalities show others courtesy and respect. Goodness rules over evil. Decency, love and nurture is given freely, in a world of equality, devoid of greed and self interest, a world where people put out their hand to help the less fortunate. I see a clean green Earth where everyone has ample fresh water and food. A world without armies, weapons and viciousness. An Earth where Protties, Catholics, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddists, Jehovah's and athiests walk arm in arm with love of humanity and free spirit.
In my night dreams I am an exquisite and passionate lover, much sought after.
I like dreaming. In my dreams, everything is possible.
I try my best to live my dream.
It's free, and it beats reality.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Freedom
"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."
That's a line from a song titled 'Me and Bobby McGee', written by Kris Kristofferson, and made famous, I think, by Janis Joplin. I'm recalling from nearly forty years ago so pardon me if I'm wrong.
It goes on, "Nothin' ain't worth nothin', but it's free."
For us here in our 'free' country, Australia, or those in the 'land of the free', the USA, freedom bears thinking about.
Especially if, as I did tonight, you watched a show on SBS called 'Law and Disorder' (I think) about whistle blower Andrew Wilkie. Wilkie, an analyst in the intelligence area of the government, spoke out in the days leading up to the invasion of Iraq by the Axis of Deceit, claiming the Bush, Howard and Blair administrations were misleading the public by grossly exaggerating and deliberately distorting evidence to legitimize the invasion politically. He was ostracized.
The coalition of the willing never found the WMD's, as we all know. Wilkie may have put himself in the bad books, but to me he's a hero. His bravery in speaking out shows he's a free man. His life changed dramatically, but he was prepared to do what he thought was right, in the interests of the integrity of his country, and suffer whatever the consequences might be.
Freedom was sought by the Hellenistic philosopher Epicurus. He and his mates removed themselves from commercial employment in Athens ("We must free ourselves from the prison of everyday affairs and politics"), and began what could be best described as a commune, accepting a simpler way of life in exchange for independence. They would have less money, but, similar to Wilkie, would never again have to follow the commands of odious superiors. Simplicity did not affect their sense of status, but by distancing themselves from Athens, they had ceased to judge themselves on a material basis.
Andrew Wilkie differs from Epicurus in that he has not shunned politics. He stood at the last federal election as the Green's candidate for the seat of Benelong. He directed his preferences to Labour candidate Maxine McKew. You know the rest. What a hoot. He is now hoping to stand as an independent for the lower house in Tasmania.
While George, John and Tony, no longer in office, live like kings in tax payer funded retired opulence, the subservient majority toil long and hard. Most Australians, Americans and Great Britons, are far from free. They are prisoners of fear and anxiety; unemployement, interest rate rises, Muslims, refugees, terrorists, illness, climate change, loss of freedom. We are fighting for freedom, in Afghanistan. The body bag count rises. The brass says they died fighting for freedom.
It's often said, at funerals, "He/she (the cadaver) is now at peace, free of pain, suffering, and anxiety."
Like the song said, "Freedom is just another word for nothing less to lose. Nothin' aint worth nothin', but it's free."
That's a line from a song titled 'Me and Bobby McGee', written by Kris Kristofferson, and made famous, I think, by Janis Joplin. I'm recalling from nearly forty years ago so pardon me if I'm wrong.
It goes on, "Nothin' ain't worth nothin', but it's free."
For us here in our 'free' country, Australia, or those in the 'land of the free', the USA, freedom bears thinking about.
Especially if, as I did tonight, you watched a show on SBS called 'Law and Disorder' (I think) about whistle blower Andrew Wilkie. Wilkie, an analyst in the intelligence area of the government, spoke out in the days leading up to the invasion of Iraq by the Axis of Deceit, claiming the Bush, Howard and Blair administrations were misleading the public by grossly exaggerating and deliberately distorting evidence to legitimize the invasion politically. He was ostracized.
The coalition of the willing never found the WMD's, as we all know. Wilkie may have put himself in the bad books, but to me he's a hero. His bravery in speaking out shows he's a free man. His life changed dramatically, but he was prepared to do what he thought was right, in the interests of the integrity of his country, and suffer whatever the consequences might be.
Freedom was sought by the Hellenistic philosopher Epicurus. He and his mates removed themselves from commercial employment in Athens ("We must free ourselves from the prison of everyday affairs and politics"), and began what could be best described as a commune, accepting a simpler way of life in exchange for independence. They would have less money, but, similar to Wilkie, would never again have to follow the commands of odious superiors. Simplicity did not affect their sense of status, but by distancing themselves from Athens, they had ceased to judge themselves on a material basis.
Andrew Wilkie differs from Epicurus in that he has not shunned politics. He stood at the last federal election as the Green's candidate for the seat of Benelong. He directed his preferences to Labour candidate Maxine McKew. You know the rest. What a hoot. He is now hoping to stand as an independent for the lower house in Tasmania.
While George, John and Tony, no longer in office, live like kings in tax payer funded retired opulence, the subservient majority toil long and hard. Most Australians, Americans and Great Britons, are far from free. They are prisoners of fear and anxiety; unemployement, interest rate rises, Muslims, refugees, terrorists, illness, climate change, loss of freedom. We are fighting for freedom, in Afghanistan. The body bag count rises. The brass says they died fighting for freedom.
It's often said, at funerals, "He/she (the cadaver) is now at peace, free of pain, suffering, and anxiety."
Like the song said, "Freedom is just another word for nothing less to lose. Nothin' aint worth nothin', but it's free."
Friday, November 06, 2009
Swarming Up
Harry called out, "Hello Carey", on Wednesday, as I walked through JAC Russell Park. He was on the footpath heading up the main road in the direction of the post office.
We exchanged news. I hadn't seen Harry since before I went to Alice Springs. His German visitor, Anya, has gone back home. Her partner, who was supposed to join her in Australia for a trip to Uluru etc and Nth Qld, never came. He found a new lady and stayed home. Anya had everything booked and was upset terribly.
"One of my beehives swarmed yesterday, it's hanging in a ti-tree just over the fence."
"It looks like rain today Harry, they'll probably stay where they are till it fines up. I'll try to get there tomorrow, about lunchtime it'll be."
"OK. They might fly off in the morning, but we'll hope for the best."
I had to put some foundation wax in some frames after doing some pressing bookwork and working at Pat's for a couple of hours in the morning. Pat wasn't home but Mal was. I tidied up with the whipper snipper a bit and shifted some earth where Mal wanted the vegie garden extendedand an edge wall moved. Mal's usually away on an engineering job somewhere at a mine in Qld. We talked about the war in Afghanistan. He reckons they'll never beat them. No one ever has. He had two Afghanistan body guards for two years while he built a petro chemical plant at Gatta in the Middle East. He got to know them well. They carried the biggest swords you'd ever see and he felt very safe. His labour force was 450 Indians and various other labourers hired daily as needed. He said his bodyguards talked and thought in the long term. They think for their children's children.
It was 2.00pm by the time I arrived at Harry's with the bee box and frames to box the swarm. They were still there. It was an awkward one, the ground under the ti-tree fell away steeply. I had to jack up the entrance end of the box with a brick so it was like an obstacle course for the bees to go in after I dropped them at the entrance. They were slow, I hung around for a long time thinking they might go back up the tree. I went to the farm and burnt off till 7.00pm, then returned to Harry's and picked up the bees as dusk closed in. It was surprisingly cold and the bees stopped flying well before dark. I couldn't leave them there. There are two horses in the paddock and I didn't want a horse accidentally knocking over the hive. Bees and horses don't mix, bees don't like the smell of them. I didn't want to take them home just over the hill, somemight fly back confused in the morning, it being only a few hundred metres as the crow flies. I took them to Keith Smith's at Boyd Rd, a few kms away, and will bring them home after a few days.
The good news is, when I went to my bees to take a frame of young brood to put in my swarm box, to make the swarm stay, I checked quickly the queenless half of the hive I divided a while ago. It's no longer queenless. A beautiful fat young freshly mated queen was examining cells in new comb the bees were building on the top bars.
Always good to see nature at its best.
We exchanged news. I hadn't seen Harry since before I went to Alice Springs. His German visitor, Anya, has gone back home. Her partner, who was supposed to join her in Australia for a trip to Uluru etc and Nth Qld, never came. He found a new lady and stayed home. Anya had everything booked and was upset terribly.
"One of my beehives swarmed yesterday, it's hanging in a ti-tree just over the fence."
"It looks like rain today Harry, they'll probably stay where they are till it fines up. I'll try to get there tomorrow, about lunchtime it'll be."
"OK. They might fly off in the morning, but we'll hope for the best."
I had to put some foundation wax in some frames after doing some pressing bookwork and working at Pat's for a couple of hours in the morning. Pat wasn't home but Mal was. I tidied up with the whipper snipper a bit and shifted some earth where Mal wanted the vegie garden extendedand an edge wall moved. Mal's usually away on an engineering job somewhere at a mine in Qld. We talked about the war in Afghanistan. He reckons they'll never beat them. No one ever has. He had two Afghanistan body guards for two years while he built a petro chemical plant at Gatta in the Middle East. He got to know them well. They carried the biggest swords you'd ever see and he felt very safe. His labour force was 450 Indians and various other labourers hired daily as needed. He said his bodyguards talked and thought in the long term. They think for their children's children.
It was 2.00pm by the time I arrived at Harry's with the bee box and frames to box the swarm. They were still there. It was an awkward one, the ground under the ti-tree fell away steeply. I had to jack up the entrance end of the box with a brick so it was like an obstacle course for the bees to go in after I dropped them at the entrance. They were slow, I hung around for a long time thinking they might go back up the tree. I went to the farm and burnt off till 7.00pm, then returned to Harry's and picked up the bees as dusk closed in. It was surprisingly cold and the bees stopped flying well before dark. I couldn't leave them there. There are two horses in the paddock and I didn't want a horse accidentally knocking over the hive. Bees and horses don't mix, bees don't like the smell of them. I didn't want to take them home just over the hill, somemight fly back confused in the morning, it being only a few hundred metres as the crow flies. I took them to Keith Smith's at Boyd Rd, a few kms away, and will bring them home after a few days.
The good news is, when I went to my bees to take a frame of young brood to put in my swarm box, to make the swarm stay, I checked quickly the queenless half of the hive I divided a while ago. It's no longer queenless. A beautiful fat young freshly mated queen was examining cells in new comb the bees were building on the top bars.
Always good to see nature at its best.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Frustration
Returning one day on my morning walk in Alice Springs, a group of aboriginal men were standing under a red gum tree drinking cans of VB at 8.30am, next to the entrance of our caravan park on the banks of the Todd River. There was nothing threatening or aggressive in their manner, some empty cans were on the ground at their feet, and the men, aged I'd guess between 20 and 30, gave every impression of relaxed contentment.
The day was already warm. I wondered what the rest of the day would hold for them. Probably a few more cans, then sleep in the shade through the heat of the day. It saddenned to me think of their future. But it was not just sadness. There was a strong feeling of frustration that I was powerless to do anything about it. Why would those men choose to stand around drinking warm beer at the beginning of the day? How could they be so aimless?
I feel the same frustration when I hear about 'boat people'. What is the right thing? Let 'em in? Or send 'em away? If we let 'em in, will we be inundated? Again, there's nothing I can do about it, and the cause of the problem is outside anything I can affect.
Global warming or climate change is equally frustrating. I've installed solar hot water and water tanks, but it doesn't go away. We're a wealthy nation hooked on automobiles. The cities are clogged with traffic jams. As soon as a new freeway is built the increase in vehicles chokes it down. So what are the projections? More freeways, roads, more cars, emissions, noise. More climate change. Desal plants. More of the same decline into misery. And I'm powerless, except that I get to vote every few years. Does my vote change anything? Not that I can see. Man, that's frustrating.
It frustrates me to see my neighbours feeding birds. Don't they get the message? Do they miss all the information that explains they shouldn't?
The litter on the roadsides frustrates me. I pick it up on my walk. What is it that makes a person open his/her window of their personal version of a mobile lounge room and entertainment centre and throw their litter out, so that their space is not untidy with take away food and drink containers? They shove the garbage they can eat down their throats and throw the garbage they can't out the window. I see pooey plastic lined disposable nappies on the roadside. What are we becoming? A nation of pigs? I shouldn't say that. Pigs are a clean animal.
All the pollies seem to do is yap and argue and point score. And all the while the human race, like an out of control locomotive, is carreering toward the precipice where there's no bridge. Is it any wonder the dentist said I grind my teeth at night in my sleep?
Writing about it doesn't ease my frustration. It's worse than when I started.
The day was already warm. I wondered what the rest of the day would hold for them. Probably a few more cans, then sleep in the shade through the heat of the day. It saddenned to me think of their future. But it was not just sadness. There was a strong feeling of frustration that I was powerless to do anything about it. Why would those men choose to stand around drinking warm beer at the beginning of the day? How could they be so aimless?
I feel the same frustration when I hear about 'boat people'. What is the right thing? Let 'em in? Or send 'em away? If we let 'em in, will we be inundated? Again, there's nothing I can do about it, and the cause of the problem is outside anything I can affect.
Global warming or climate change is equally frustrating. I've installed solar hot water and water tanks, but it doesn't go away. We're a wealthy nation hooked on automobiles. The cities are clogged with traffic jams. As soon as a new freeway is built the increase in vehicles chokes it down. So what are the projections? More freeways, roads, more cars, emissions, noise. More climate change. Desal plants. More of the same decline into misery. And I'm powerless, except that I get to vote every few years. Does my vote change anything? Not that I can see. Man, that's frustrating.
It frustrates me to see my neighbours feeding birds. Don't they get the message? Do they miss all the information that explains they shouldn't?
The litter on the roadsides frustrates me. I pick it up on my walk. What is it that makes a person open his/her window of their personal version of a mobile lounge room and entertainment centre and throw their litter out, so that their space is not untidy with take away food and drink containers? They shove the garbage they can eat down their throats and throw the garbage they can't out the window. I see pooey plastic lined disposable nappies on the roadside. What are we becoming? A nation of pigs? I shouldn't say that. Pigs are a clean animal.
All the pollies seem to do is yap and argue and point score. And all the while the human race, like an out of control locomotive, is carreering toward the precipice where there's no bridge. Is it any wonder the dentist said I grind my teeth at night in my sleep?
Writing about it doesn't ease my frustration. It's worse than when I started.
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