"The Special Birthday Boy."

   
    A Special Birthday Boy, has reached double figures today.

  Oh! Yay you may say,  "Happy Birthday to him."

  He really is a buddy, a mate, a special chum. I really,  would be lost without this lovely, lovely  friend.

   He is really, really Special, I can tell him anything, he sometimes doesn't listen. But he is a male you know. Sometimes he goes a wandering, sometimes he comes when called.

  But if you add the magic "B" word,he appears within a second.

  So perhaps just for his birthday, I will call at the Butcher Shop.

  Then I will be able to call the "B" word, and wait for him to come.

   Happy Birthday, Spoilt Black Dog, come and get your,

               "BONE."

"Wait and See."

   We have a little hen she is as clucky as can be, she wants to be a mother.

  But we will have to wait and see. She has her little clutch of eggs, and there she sits and sits.

  Now we have to wait and wonder, if that Up and coming Young Stud, is ready to be a Dad.

  Or is he all just strut and crow, we now just have to wait and wait and really really wonder.

"Cross and Cranky. that I am."

  Yes, I am over it, cross and cranky.

  Why is there no karma for weather forecasters.
 Can they tell us what they want. Do they really, really care.
 Where is all that "rain" they talked about.

   Are they aware their noses might grow to gigantic sizes, if they  keep on telling  porkies. Or it's whicked, bad and evil to tell so many lies.
 
 Do they really, really  care.  They are probably  having a  Weather Pow-wow,  now.  "Your turn to pick a forecast."  Put your hand right in the hat . What can we tell all those suckers out there. They will believe anything, we say.

 They haven't got a choice.

  My garden is past crying, not a sob to be heard or seen. There is no moisture left, to even shed one solitary little tear.

"Slack and Lazy, Payback Time."

  I have been bad, really slack and lazy, I have let the garden run  wild and free. Now the karma is here to get me, with every weed I see.

  People have been ringing, "Are you opening up your garden, for everyone to see,"

   Oh, golly, golly gosh, I would hang my head in shame. To hear all the tut, tut, tutting and "Did we really come here last year, please check the map again."

   I will get my hoe, a hoeing and will be going to and fro. The trouble is I don't really mind it, when it is all overgrown and free.

   The birds don't care, nor do the bugs and other creepy crawlies.

   So if you do just pop on in, don't expect it to be all bright and shiney.

" Tickets."

   What a happy little gardener is out there wandering today.

   While she mingles with the marigolds, she sings along to "Maggie May."

   While she walks on past the dam. she hums, "I'll be Sailing", as she wanders on her way.

   As she wields her little snippers at the weeds who are in the way, She tells them all to brace themselves, cos the "First cut is the Deepest." As she passes on her way.

   She can't wait to see that Scots man, that rocker they call Rod. She has tickets to his concert, she hopes he will sing "You're in my Heart".

 But she will settle for just anything, just as long as she can see that man called Rod.

'Addiction."

    I'm happy with my addiction, it's out there for all to see.

 Yes, I could garden day and through the night and be as happy as can be.

  So sad and really scary to see what else is out there, that can tempt our precious kids.

  It surely must be possible to get them all outside, kicking balls and talking. Chuck those new fangled Ipads and all those other things.

  Get them them outside conversing and looking at the world.

 Let them know there are other things, that can make you feel darn good. Let them know you don't need those drugs or even all that booze.

  Get them right outside, let Mother Nature do her stuff, plant a tree or just feel the earth. You may just start to realise just how good it is out there.

   Get your kids together and give them all a hug, we really don't know what is ahead for them.
 
      "Just give them lots of love."
 
  

  

 

"Whipper Snipper Woes."

    Why does my Whipper Snipper hate me, it never wants to start.

I'm sure it is a bloke, a Warren, Wayne or Lionel.
 
It just wants to stay within  the shed, and prop against the wall.
 
Doesn't matter what nice words I say, and perhaps a few not so really nice.

If it was a Wanda, Mary-Beth or Peggy-Sue, it would want to be out in the garden, soaking up the sun and working on a tan.

Alas, no go again today, " he" will be staying in the shed. I don't know what it is, maybe it's all that exercise or maybe just plain shy.

  I now will go and find my spade and just have a little dig.