Never ever will I, whinge again.
I have been far across the sea, to a place that has been,
quaked and cracked and crumbled.
I would have been so scary, no probably much more than that.
They just go about their business, they have so very little.
They make do with what they've got.
They made me feel quite humble.
I'm glad I ventured there, and hope my little bit.
Has made a tiny bit of difference.
The scenery is awesome, their roads not for the faint hearted.
The food was just plain yummy.
The friendships made were great.
Now I did say I would never whinge.
That, I would be quite content.
But the weatherman has said 40 degrees, so I am rethinking
what I said.
Well, perhaps not quite right, ordinary brown snakes.
They think they are welcome to hang out in my shed.
They haven't got the story right, they are not welcome there at all.
Now I open it with caution, asking is there anyone inside.
I remove my hat and sunglasses to get a good look inside.
Yep, there they are a wiggling, and jiggling all about.
I close the door, behind me and leave a parting word.
If you really think you are welcome.
Please wait for your invitation, I will pop it in the mail.
Please don't hold your breath while waiting.
I might be lucky enough and you will all expire.
I'm not a happy camper, I cleaned my house today.
In fact I'm really, really quite angry.
If I wasn't such a lady, I would say it another way.
Don't tell me you like Summer, I have my broom in hand.
Well, it only starts tomorrow and I'm over it right now.
Anyone who says they like it, may get a jolly good beating.
This old witch, just doesn't ride who broom.
She could give you quite a clout.
The dust may clean out, with a good sweep and mop.
But my poor old mop-top tree, has been snapped off.
So don't tell me you like the summer, the wind and all the dust.
This Old Witch, is feeling evil, so just watch your step.
School reunion, long time since I started, long time since I left.
It was nice to have a catch-up, to laugh and have a chat.
To compare just how we used to look.
Then wonder where all the years went.
Why didn't we keep in touch.
As I wander round my garden, it's like a little catch-up.
Without the little chat.
There are plants here and there, that came by way of cuttings.
So there is a little pot of Gracie, a rose from Marg.
Also the bits I've borrowed, also the bits I pinched.
There are trees that came as thank-yous'.
Gifts in rememberance.
My garden is a catch-up every single day.
Do I need a new "Do",
No not the snip and colour kind.
Perhaps I need another "Do",
One of jam and cream and scones,
Throw in a little music and a visitor or three,
The garden has gone all natural, its truly run amok.
The gardener has been slack and lazy and doing other stuff.
She needs to be reminded there is stuff to do outdoors,
The thought of a "Do" a happening somewhere down the track.
Just might get her off her backside. Get her back outside.
And tackling all that stuff.
It has come around again.
The Town Show is here again.
The kids will be busy, Making floral saucers.
The patterns going round and round.
The big people, will be checking out their gardens,
To find the very best, the competion can get very fierce.
Everyone is vying for that trophy.
The very "Best in Show",
The biggest, longest carrots, the roundest reddest beets.
The best looking rose, the best bunch of this and that.
And on and on it goes.
But if we do not enter and want to really win,..
You know, we wouldn't have a Show.
It's here, it"s on the sky is quite a buzz.
That little band of voluntees have done a bonza job.
Lots to see if you look above and lots to see below.
Problem here, but small I know.
But needs some thought and much consideration.
I have my laundry to hang out, while they fly up there above.
Now I am in a little dither.
Do I hang my not so small, "smalls" out there.
For all to view and see. Will they think they are and SOS flag.
Flapping in the breeze.
Yes, Air Show time again, the town will be abuzz.
They will be flying in from near and far and passing just above.
I wonder what my garden looks like, from way up there above.
Can they see the weeds I've missed and all the chores not done.
Or do they see it looking nice and neat, nothing left undone.
I could book a flight I suppose, and check it out myself.
Or perhaps I'll get my broomstick out and fly up in the air.
I could get a birds eye view.
If I hover just above.
Am I odd, Yes, I hear some of you, I know doesn't matter.
Have been known to have a chat with a good looking tree or two.
Well, Why wouldn't you.
Have been known to apologise while pruning.
For your own good, better for your health and wellbeing.
Yep, those plants understood.
Yes. well you know I give verbal praise to all bees and butterflies.
As you should.
Today as I stepped back onto a patch of nettles.
I muttered Oh Whoops, I am sorry, as they bit me on the butt.
I was taught to be polite, as we all should be.
Or am I just plain Odd.
The knee high boots have long gone.
The mini skirt layed to rest.
Laps past the Town Hall Dance, to check out the talent.
Back past the coffee drinkers, down past the pub.
All so long ago, all part of the past.
But, no this old girl is still cutting laps.
Down past the Lemon scented gum, up round the Hakea.
Lap after lap she can cut, round and round she can go.
The mowing here goes on forever, and ever
But so do those memories of long ago.
Yes, this tonic is working its magic right now.
Playing Xavier Rudd in the garden, Yes it understands his lyrics.
Peace, harmony, unity of the planet.
Yep, went along to watch and listen, dread-locks swinging in time.
No, not my graying locks, others bopping everywhere.
Was I the oldest there, well I thought not.
I spied another with looks of fading youth, I wasn't alone.
Whoops, he was an Usher, I didn't really care.
Waved my hands, I stomped along with everyone.
Calling play, Spirit Bird or Follow the Sun.
I didn't care which one. A Man with vision.
Please listen to his wisdom, help our beautiful planet.
While we still have one.
Yes,I say "Hello Beautiful", quite often.
No, not in front of the mirror, saying how damn cute am I.
Don't get all ego-eeee, well I could be proven wrong.
No, don"t say it to the Other Person Who Lives Here.
That's more Hunkie Hansomeness, Brownie points to me.
Notch them up, whatever wayI can.
No, I say "Hello Beautiful" to every Butterfly I see.
I don't know why you wouldn't.
They are all beautiful you see.
Who planted this here garden, Who let it get this size.
It spreads from here to there and further out than that.
Perhaps I need a Unit, a bit of gravel and a pot.
But then I might retire, somewhere down the track.
Then what would I do to fill my time in.
Maybe, I'd get domesticated and even want to cook.
Perhaps I'll keep the garden, and keep really,really fit.
Yes, when I slapped this little gadget upon my wrist.
It took one look at me, and thought itself on easy street.
Perhaps a little wander and amble here and there.
But it didn't know my secret, I had a Victa hiding there.
Well, we go for miles and miles.
We push it round and round.
That FitBit has had a rethink, it is not sure at all.
It has its digits zipping around really really fast.
As she mows and mows and mows.
Yes, the mowing season has begun, there goes my life for now.
The digits on the FitBit are flying round and round.
The digits on the end of my feet are saying,
"Quite enough for now,"
Your namesake is flowering beautifully.
Sweet smelling and so nice.
I like your flowers Oh! so much, they really are a sight.
Now Miss Violet, you are just as sweet and twice as cute as them.
So will I ever get into your good books,
Will I always be known as evil, and not so really nice.
I know your are only One year old,
It's so hard being the bad Nanna, I must really look a fright.
If I try really hard, maybe one day I will get it right.
Love you Miss Violet, xxx
Most people know me as sometimes sort of quiet,
Some people would probably not agree.
I'm usualy found as ladylike.
OK, some perhaps will disagree.
Today I got the mower out, on the count of three.
I pulled and pulled to no avail,it would not start for me.
I held my breath and counted up to three,
Then from my mouth these words popped out.
"I will kick the guts right out of you, if you don't start for me."
Then my boot just followed through, Oh my golly gosh.
What has come all over me.
The mower coughed and shuddered.
It spluttered into life, we mowed and mowed together.
Until the fuel ran out, the moral to this story is
That karma has come and got me, my grass might look magnificent.
But my foot is giving me much grief.
Yes I mean it, hang on there, the winter has just begun.
I am not ready to dust of the bikini yet, sorry joke.
Far to scary, for you to contemplate.
I found "one" solitary daffodil, yep sticking itself right out there.
Now please, I want more cold, I want more fog, I want more of .
Well, I want lots, like reading by the fire, with lamplight.
With endless cups of tea, and lovely grey days outside.
I want to walk in the fog, look at moss and fungi growing.
Not sweat and moan that, it is just to darn hot.
I have a little bird, who is looking for a mate.
I think he wants a Mrs. or maybe just a fling.
All day he checks out a mirror, and primpts and preens with glee.
He wiggles those little tail feathers, winks and nods his head.
I tell him he has know hope in the love stakes,
If he keeps this nonsense up.
He is behaving like one of those Greek Gods,
Just looking at himself, now if I see him in a toga,
A olive branch behind his ear, I will shrug my shoulders
Just walk away, there is no hope for this little birdie here.
Don't you just love it, when Mother Nature says.
Get your gear off, show us your branches
Bare yourself, drop your leaves.
My trees do it so well, the brazen hussies.
A bit of a breeze and a twist and a twirl.
Not a leaf, left to cover their modesty.
Yes, they look fantastic, their branches all bare.
Beautiful, against a grey sky.
They know they look the goods, just to be admired.
Just love autumn, all its colour, followed by all its nakedness.
Don't you just love it, when something debuts in your garden.
When they pop their petals for the first time.
When they stick themselves right out there, for everyone to see.
When they really look the goods, they're are just the bees knees.
They think they're are pretty darned alright, when they decide to
strut their stuff. No coy and bashful petals here.
It's all out there,for everyone to see...
My Hakea has hit the big time.
She has popped her buds,her debut is taking place.
She can now proudly take a bow,she has done the long awaited'
We all admired her with pride. Another happy little garden
tale, from this poor old garden tragic.
Has made a tiny bit of difference.
