The Great Aussie Barbeque, First: Catch Your Roo

Dawn was arriving, light had filtered its way past the closed curtains through the narrow slit my mismeasured drapery purchase had left between window and wall. The sun always starts peeking directly into that slit around this time of year, early spring. Trees are starting to sprout buds where new leaves would be in a few weeks if not days. I had told the wife all this only last week, she had replied, “spring won’t be here until the Rugby League grand finals”, I of course know better, spring comes when I say so.

The mornings are still cold, I continue sleeping in my “lightweight” thermal vest until that sneaking stream of sunlight finally moves around to meet the edge of the bedside table each August, exact date depending on when I decide I’m brave enough. The bathroom heater is still in use while I attempt my morning toe touch and deep knee bend, the former during the latter. In spite of the cool mornings I’m certain spring is already here, old people with arthritis can tell these things. Confirmation came with a loud heartbreaking argument among the other residents of my castle.

“You only turn the steak once, not more than once and only when the first side is well done” said one voice, the other not waiting until the first finished before ending it with a simple, “I like sausages anyway.” I knew it was coming as the wife walked down the hall toward me, It’s happened before and I dread it each year. Quickly searching for a rational justification for delay I looked up from my dusting as she said, “We want a barbeque tonight.” That’s it, just dropped the bomb and walked away, truth popped into my brain a second after words left my mouth, “We can’t, you didn’t clean the barbeque at the end of last summer.” Yea, that had done it, fixed them all good and proper.

I lifted the dusty metal cover from the barbeque and looked inside, it had been sometime in March since the last ritual burning. The tiny peaked mountains of solidified oil and grease were covered with caps of dust looking for all the world like European alps, the twisted bits of petrified onion, tiny Chalets awaiting skiers, but of course, it’s spring not winter, I’d said so myself. Carefully searching for any reason to abandon this horrible enterprise I examined every nook and cranny of the wheeled man killer, no luck, or none that would fly with the jury. With a silent prayer I looked toward heaven, there it was, my prayer answered, “Looks like rain”, I said with great sadness, “We’ll have to wait for another day”. I hadn’t anticipated her counter move, she must have watched George C. Scott in Patton on TV last night, like the General she was ready. “You can clean it on the grass and I’ll paint it for you, we’ll have steak and sausages for dinner tomorrow night.”

Everyone who knows me knows I hate shopping, with the wife that is. We arrived at the hardware store my list in hand, new volcanic rock for under the grill, a strong cleaner, chemicals are a barbeque must, if you forget to clean it last year, and paint. Don’t you love hardware stores, I actually saved money, didn’t use ink adding to my list, just put stuff straight into the trolley. I picked up a plastic cover for the barbeque since we had decided to move it into a spot not under cover, two great folding chairs, which were on special and some clamps for the light stand I was building for my “photography studio”. I didn’t say anything to the wife but made mental note of quite a few things I can’t do without now that I know they exist, what great places hardware stores are. It turns out I had a good day cleaning the damn thing, and watching the painting get done, It did rain but somewhere west of us.

I hate barbeques because: sounds like a school assignment. Standing over a smoking hot plate, getting splattered with popping oil is not a good time, very un-Australian I know, but that’s how it is, messy, Smokey, usually hot and the clean up! And I have to do the preparation to boot, here we go again, another Australian summer, guess what, I don’t drink, it’s going to be a long hot one.

This morning I looked with pride at the “new” barbeque, the cover made it look great in its new spot on the edge of the patio. I quickly pushed the ideas for improvements in our outdoor living area which flashed into brain, to the back of my mind, I can’t have everything at once since she says she too busy to do them all.

The supermarket trip today was a voyage of discovery, not only did the wife stay home, I set out to turn the family into gourmet barbeque lovers, intending to bypass the usual plain steak and sausages with burnt baby potatoes and onions, going for the unusual. I looked at the Italian and German sausages, various spices and herb mixtures along with meat cuts other than the “mixed grill” special of chops, steaks and cutlets. They had protested that they wanted a real “Aussie Barbie” none of this fancy “Shrimp on the Barbie Paul Hogan stuff” I discovered “Real Aussie” for them, it was right there in the meat cabinet.

Kangaroo has been on the Aussie barbeque menu for centuries, Europeans just didn’t know where to find it until recently. In my supermarket it’s next to the chicken, just before the lamb. Now, being health conscious I read the labels. “Approved by the Heart Foundation, 98% Fat Free, High in Iron,” and other stuff in small print, always forget to take the reading glasses. Kangaroo sounded great, and wasn’t badly priced, steak was $15.99, sausages $7.85 and mince $7.79 a kilo, good value, in fact a lot cheaper than other carnivorous fair, didn’t check it against pet food, us old guys have that to look forward to on our pensions.

I already know I love Australia’s spring and summer, I might just grow to like the great Aussie barbeque as well, Can’t wait to see their faces at tonight’s feast.

JAWhite
August 2010                               Return to main page
Spring and Painting Photo:  JAWhite
Good Food Photo:  Gourmet Game 

Life Seems Confusing

But then it might just be me. It’s been a long time, or at least it seems so, since I’ve managed to get away from the housework and retirement to write much, or even play around with the blogs HTML script. I always had fun changing things around by using the editor provided, but actually typing in the code and watching pictures change size or position, and other things move and morph, that was really good fun. I even invested in a thick book named “Complete HTML”, as if anything is ever complete.

Like all those people who constructed and wrote the blogs which we see floating around the web from time to time untended, I too found myself unable to forge ahead uninterrupted. Those apparently lost and lonely pages aimed at fame or fortune or even more importantly, adventure, which for one reason or another became abandoned with last post dates long gone, almost had a new companion.

For me though, it seems I have to keep putting things down on paper, just like on my lists. Ideas float around almost every moment, and not just those waking ones, but unless I write them down they disappear as new thoughts enter my limited storage space. I wish I had one of those memories that accumulate thoughts with no apparent boundaries or limits, mine is like RAM while running Photoshop, frequently insufficient. Plenty of people not ardent readers, have said to me “Get a life” I always reply “Don’t confuse me, I think I have one here somewhere.”

Since retirement chased me from my first love, “Work”, as some call it, or as I referred to it, “Challenge”, I’ve had to broaden my view of "important". That view always included family and friends within the important umbrella, but not much else, and sometimes not enough of them. When first retired, time was all over the place, I just had to pick it up and put it somewhere. Ventures into directions I hadn’t considered of use to me in the past, suddenly became all consuming of time and thought, not to mention money. The blog was one of those ventures, it led to an interest in the code involved, which led to study of that, and other things I came across as a result of people I met on the web investigating this and that, etc, etc, etc. A real snowball effect. I’ve met many retired people now, they all have the same problem, not enough time.

So I decided to attempt to do a little more with less, concentrate on fewer activities but spend the extra time on each of them. To some people that might have been obvious from the start, for me ,having such a limited number of interests to begin with it wasn’t, I needed to try everything I could. At the end of the day we do what we find the most pleasure doing. I’ve concluded I’ll never make money at my “hobbies” so I’ll make good instead.

I guess I’m lucky, I discovered that one of the things I seem to love doing can encompass a number of the things I also like being involved in. I may not be great at it, but I hope to attain ‘goodness’ in photography, unfortunately it’s one of those pastimes that run on money but I’ll do the best I can. I like history to my surprise, always hated it in school, I now get to take photos of historic buildings and places, learning about them, and particularly people associated with them. I’ve had an interest in the outdoors and the “stuff” in it for a long time but haven’t pursued that interest, now I do, with my camera, I’m not going to go as far as studying Latin but I will look up names of plants now and then. As time goes by I’ll find other things I feel that I can add to my camera bag, perhaps I may even find an interest in people one day, that would be good, my family won’t let me take their photos, they say my camera makes them ugly. Candid is the most beautiful photo that can be taken of anyone.

It seems to only take one thing to trigger a purpose for being, for me it was finding a love of photography. That one trigger, regardless of what it is, can tie together so many other things that go to make up a full “Life”. I’m still confused, but one day I’ll learn how to think, until then I’ll take photos and write things down, so I can understand them.

JAWhite                                                         Return To Main Page
July 2010

Image : Courtesy U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

The Old Girl Chronicles

Maybe there’s a few miles left in her yet. I retired a few years ago, bad health and too much effort ploughed into my time on the line just wore me down. The wife, like the battery, just keeps on keeping on... Thank God.

Her part-time job keeps bread on the table as well as those few luxuries we’ve become fondly attached to, stuff like soup to dip the bread in really rounds out a day. Learning to manage on a tight budget wasn’t easy but we got on with what we had to do. Turning off a light when you leave a room is basic stuff, saving those little stubs of soap until you have six or seven to squeeze together making one big lump is an acquired habit. Being the househusband I learned to search high and low for money saving ideals early in the retirement, I even searched the women’s magazines, when I could do so in the supermarket without having to pay for them, now the wife doesn’t know I do that so don’t tell her, you see, I make fun of her when she does it. All those househusband duties are second nature to me now, I just do my work with minimal complaining.

Tonight I was thinking about things from her point of view, you know, an open mind, without the man’s attitude toward “women’s work”, that kind of thing. You might be wondering what brought on this contemplative interruption to my life, I’ll tell you. Last week she asked me to put an advertisement in the paper.

We had been quietly discussing the polarizing filter for my camera which I’d managed to purchase with the few cents a week I somehow saved from the housekeeping money. That was when she said with strong determination and grim lips, “Write this down! Work wanted...“House Cleaning”.

You could have knocked me down with a feather, she was going to sell me, farm me out as a servant, make money from my labour...hang on, it suddenly occurred to me that something like this was already going on. Here I was at home taking care of things there, while she was out earning a wage, part time it might be but working for other people and being paid for it is still work of sorts. I thought a moment, then I thought for another moment, and so on, then I looked at her and said:

“Alright, you’ve been saying that I’m always bothering you when you’re reading, that I’m in the way, Okay, I wouldn’t mind going out and doing some light housework for people, I just don't have the time."

My forced smile was wide but suddenly became real when she replied “Not for you stupid, for me.” Those words hurt me, literally, I had been polishing her bowling ball at the time and dropped it in shock, my right foot, mostly the big toe.

I picked up the ball as she tried to control her laughter, luckily I was sitting at the time and didn’t have to bend far to reach it, my back was still in pain from the days vacuuming. She explained... the way she put it, was that time wore heavily on her shoulders, not one to sit and read her historical novels all day and having me to do the dishes and cooking, she sought something else to occupy her restless soul. It was impossible for me to argue against such profound logic, I had to agree that her idea was for the best. The advertisement was placed, $30 for the three lines including her mobile phone number, that would have been enough to buy the lens hood I needed for the camera.  With fingers crossed I hoped the ad would work.

You know, I’ve never thought of my wife as a salesperson, sure she’d sold men’s shoes many years ago in a department store, quite successfully as well, I’ve always put that success down to the fact that mini-skirts were in fashion then. I didn’t worry about the customers looking at her legs, but those two guys she worked with though. Anyway, her first call arrived very soon, she sold the benefit not the product, just like a professional marketer, I was proud of her.

Off she went the next morning to meet her first customer.  The lady showed her each room explaining the little details which, in her opinion needed special attention. Things like the corner where the dog curls up to sleep every afternoon, it needs extra vacuuming as does the cats favourite cushion on the couch where the sun shines the longest on cold days. Both cat and dog were long hairs of course. As the wife put it “The fun started when she showed me the first bedroom.”

My wife entered first and looked around, noting the ornaments which seemed to be everywhere in the house, the wife calls that decor “Nouveau Dust” I think it’s called clutter. She smiled at the ceramic chicken on the bed, thinking a strange place for a strange ornament much less a ceramic one, and with a dog in the house. The lady walked in saying how the en-suite bathroom was hardly used since here older son had moved out and taken his worm farm with him.

As they were leaving the room, the wife was surprised to hear the lady call out “Chook Chook, out you go”, she was even more surprised when the ornament jumped down from the bed and the lady nonchalantly exclaimed “Ah good, two eggs today.”

Isn’t it funny how you don’t really hear what a person’s saying when they’re rolling around on the floor laughing so hard they can’t breathe. The wife finally got out the part about the eggs, just before she had to run to the toilet, I’m not sure she made it in time.

JAWhite                                        Return to Main Page
May 2010 

Image of Beautiful young lady (sigh): Scott Snyder

Image of Chicken: Mikdesign

Image of the wife's Bowling ball: JAWhite

Blue Sap and Rabbit Crap

I apologise for the length of this story, it was a long day out and I did take a lot of photos.  Hope you can get to the end.

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I wasn’t too late to still be in bed, after all its Sunday I thought, as I lay contemplating the things I could do that day. It didn’t occurred to me to think about those things I knew I should do. My habit of waking early and just thinking sometimes pays dividends, I might suddenly remember where I put the missing chocolate bar I hid from the wife, important things like that. This particular Sunday I had a great idea, there was a free entry coupon to a botanic garden in my wallet. I moved as far away from the wife as I could before elbowing her in the ribs, the swelling around my eye still hasn’t gone down from last time. “Come on” I said, “the days wasting, we have places to go.” “Shut up!”... I left the bed heading for the shower with no further comment.

On checking the web site I saw the cafe in the garden was closed for renovations, we needed food, drinks, snacks, map, I should have made a list. As I packed up the camera gear I was amazed to see the wife walking out the door, “Where are you...?” I couldn’t believe it, she had to go for her newspaper, “It’s 9, the place opens at 10... hurry up!” I knew I was wasting my breath, the gardens are 15 minutes away, we finally arrived at 11:00.

The garden first opened about 22 years ago, I remember because the kids were around knee high. We had gone to see what the fuss was about. The place is over 400 hectares, 3.5 k north to south and 1.5 or so across, a lot of lawn to mow. “It’s a botanic garden not a zoo” the wife said with obvious glee when I commented on my hope of shooting some animals. I don’t have many pleasures in life, a witty come back is one, but for the second time that day I remembered the eye. She’s getting good as it turned out, I didn’t see any animals, only evidence of their existence. My free entry pass covered one person, it was for entry to participate in a photography competition focused, so to speak, on the botanic garden. I suppose they don’t know about wives for carrying tripods, bags and lunch packs, anyway it cost me $5.00 to get her in. After I agreed to stopping at the gift shop for a quick browse, the wife grudgingly volunteered to bear the burden of my camera bag as we attempted the hill opposite the parking lot.

The area is named “The Connections Garden”, according to the brochure it’s “A roofless museum of corridors, vistas, and spaces where visitors discover the interconnectedness of humans and the natural world.” It seemed to have a lot of trees and plants with winding paths, some of which were blocked for construction or new plantings. It was very peaceful and, green. I noticed that “connectivity” with nature was well catered for with spots for wedding photographs, lots of wonderful backdrops of tropical and forest plants, and some water features, as well as beautiful dry stone walls. I was setting up for a shot of a tall, dark green, pine type tree when the wife decided she needed the car keys. A little apprehensive, I asked the obvious question. It seems she had left her “historical novel” in the car, not really an outdoor girl.  It was a fair walk back to car park so I was happy she went alone.

My new tripod has two spirit levels built into it, this is great for getting the land and sky in the right places but it takes a little while to adjust all three legs and that lever twist thing on the side. As I was replacing the lens cap, I heard a distant shout of my now familiar name, you might think I would know “John” after all these years, but the wife doesn’t think so, she shouts it quite often to remind me. I walked back down the trail until I could see her in the distance at the car, after some hand signing it became clear she couldn’t unlock the door. With a sigh I gathered up the gear and started back down, it was a pretty steep hill, and the detours for construction meant quite a climb. She managed to get the door open just as I could see the whites of her eyes, left my gun at home.

Heading back up we passed the pine tree I’d shot, and walked about another twenty steps along the winding trail before the wife noticed how high above us the top of the hill I was intent on reaching was. Finding a nice soft sandstone outcrop, no doubt strategically placed by the landscape designer, she advised that she would wait and read some until I returned. Camera strapped around my neck, tripod slung across my shoulder, I accepted the camera bag from her and advanced like, well, an out of breath old guy, I wanted to say something heroic here, but I’ll be honest in this account of my day. Now this hill wasn’t the highest in the gardens just the first, the day was young. The path was full of switchbacks zigzagging up the slope, I reached the top after about 10 minutes walk, It occurred to me that it would be an incredible coincidence if I were to have a heart attack today, I had an appointment on Friday with a specialist but had cancelled, anyway I’m still here. I had suspected the view would be good but was pleased to see the Blue Mountains in the distance, about 80 kilometres or so away. I guess the air was a little polluted back in the late 1700’s when they were named, they were blue looking today as well. I knew this area of Sydney was the fastest growing in Australia but didn’t expect to see so many houses crowding the gardens, and more development underway.

I discovered that it’s easier to go down hills than go up, must be something to do with nature, in spite of the easy walk down I spent the next few minutes checking the map, I wasn’t going to walk anymore if I could drive, after all this is the day of rest. We could still hear the sound of falling water somewhere in the wooded hillside, so off we went. I was trying to pick photo opportunities which didn’t include signs which said things like “rare”, “endangered”, “remote”, or “don’t litter”, while the wife was stopping to read them as if they were written by Barbara... something or other. While I paused to take photos the wife was getting bored, she said “I’ll just take this trail and meet you down there at the waterfall.” You couldn’t see the water but unless they had speakers and sound effects it would be in that general direction. I wasn’t serious about the photo contest which had brought me there, but was making an effort to shoot just about everything that was green. Looking for unusual angles and views can be dangerous, I had thought it was just the wife panicking, but both boys have started yelling at me as well when I drive, photography can do that to you, they could be right though, eyes are in the front of the head for some reason. I didn’t break the camera but I hurt my knees a few times as I tripped over steps and things.

I found myself on a trail above the pool of water and was taking some shots when I heard my name again. “Where are you?” she shouted ,from quite a distance and up the hill by the sound of it. I shouted “Down here near the pond”, “Where? I can’t see you or the water, I’m lost.” She was getting more distant. All I could do was keep taking photos and shout “Down here!” occasionally. A momentary image of men with flashlights searching into the night crossed my mind, as I spotted a fern growing on a tree. I heard her every now and then, sometimes louder sometimes fainter, down deep I knew she would be okay, there were fences all around the place and she was carrying the food and drink, that made me think, it was nearly lunch time. I had finished with the woods and wanted to get down to the pond and waterfall, the trails are covered with fine bark, almost sawdust which was nice to walk on but didn’t really give me a clear idea where they led. I could see the water, but not how to get down, that’s when I saw the wife. She had been quite for some time now, busily snapping photos I had almost forgotten about her being lost. You wouldn’t believe it, she was sitting on some rocks next to the water. I walked back and forth looking for a way down and finally had to do the deed, “How did you get down there? I asked after making sure no one was around. That’s all I have to say about that.

“That took you long enough” she said as I arrived, I’m sure it had only been fifteen minutes since I spotted her, the trails wandering all over the place was a good excuse, I didn’t dare mention her being lost, quick as a flash I said “Can I have a bottle of water?” This was one of the wedding photos sites, a little bridge over the stream and a dock made of weathered planks added to the “ambiance” of the scene. I couldn’t be a wedding photographer, I’d stuff it up and have a tearful bride haunting my dreams for eternity. I took a couple of shots feeling it must be mandatory since they had gone to the trouble of building the scene, I already have ponds and streams filed under “Photos”; “Water, Ponds, Streams”.

It was definitely lunch time, we reached the car and decided to eat my carefully prepared repast. As the cafe was closed, an opportunistic vendor had parked his “Gourmet Coffee” van near the Kiosk, we decided the $4.00 slice of cake he offered wasn’t as appetising as my...oh shit, I had brought the blue snack bag but forgot the red one, it had the sandwiches. We settled for my bags of chips and Nestle Crunch bars for lunch, quite filling. I ate and the wife glowered at me, I looked over the map again, planning my next expedition route, she made funny stomach rumbles, or was that a growl.

There are narrow one way vehicle roads around the garden, with walking trails, which are wheelchair friendly, heading off into the distance leading to mysterious sounding places. “Sundial of Human Involvement”, Wollemi Walk of Discovery”, “Callitris Grove”, I thought Callitris meant... no. We headed for the Sundial, the day was more than half over and we had only visited ONE spot. It wasn’t my fault, I hadn’t had to read the morning paper, I didn’t get lost, much, I didn’t forget how to unlock the car door, but let’s face it, at the end of the day, it’s all my fault anyway.

I was anticipating our reaching a spot marked on the map as “Mount Annan Summit” even I, though relatively unschooled in things botanic, knew that “summit” meant the top of something. Being a high achiever, summits, or tops of things attract me, we made a couple of stops at places called wetlands and plains which had trees and bushes apparently native to those places around Australia. As my free pass covered three visits, I decided to come back and take photos there next time, unless those housing developments moved fast these native areas would still be there for a while, wouldn’t they?

With a label like “Summit” I expected the Mt Annan Summit to be rather higher than the hill we, or rather I, had climbed earlier, and as we drew nearer the Sundial of Human Involvement, it was obvious that sundials lived at altitude as well. Driving as near as possible I parked and said, “Here we are, the best view in town you must come up with me.” Her window was on the side facing the hill, as she looked out the window slowly lowering her head allowing her eyes to look up toward the top, she said in a crisp decisive manner, “Fine.” My heart leapt, I wouldn’t have to carry all the gear up there myself, I’d try and analysis her motives later. The paved walking path snaked its way to the top but I decided that the slope was gentle enough to climb straight up saving time, we were losing sunlight fast. Gathering our gear we started up at a swift clip, which lasted three or four paces before levelling off into a crawl we could maintain for at least another couple of minutes. I didn’t keep track of time but the sun was decidedly lower when we reached what I thought was the peak.

It wasn’t, just over the peak the trail we had cut across dropped downward for 5 meters then veered right and upwards, toward another peak. We hadn’t seen this higher peak since a stand of trees blocked the view. I’ve never claimed to be good at map reading, I often say “I wish I had a compass,” such was the situation I found there. You see, the damn road we parked on below us continued for some way then turned left and up the other side of the peak, it joined the walking trail we had cut across right there where we were standing.

From the level we were on I could see Eastward toward the ocean, our suburb was about five or six kilometres from where we were. I shot some photos then looked at the wife who had collapsed onto a bench placed there for just that purpose as well as being a dedication to someone who had helped develop the garden. I didn’t explain our wasted effort, I simply said “At least when we get back to the car we can drive closer to the Sundial of Human Involvement.” Thank God she hadn’t caught her breath. She decided to follow the trail back down the hill while I, remembering that down is easier than up cut across again. The drive to the nearest parking for a short walk to the Sundial, took long enough for us to catch our breath and have a drink, it certainly allowed the wife to catch her breath, she had plenty for a scream.

After we drove across the walking track leading to the sundial I started pulling over to the shoulder to park, grabbing my arm in a vice like grip she screamed like I’ve never heard her before. “Stop! we’re going over the edge! we’re going to fall! stop!! This was loud stuff, honestly I have never been so shocked and surprised, I guess that was because we were in absolutely no danger whatsoever, that I could see. When I finally understood what she meant, which only took a split second, but seemed like ages, I attempted a laugh. She refused to walk on the grass verge, as you can see in the photo we were in great danger. This was turning into a interesting day.

By now I had decided that one or two more stops would be all I could manage today, the sundial, then around the perimeter of the garden to see what else to check out next visit. We walked along the trail and up to the best stop we had found this particular day.

It was still a pretty steep climb to the sundial and we had decided that Mt Annan Summit would have to do without our visit, this was high enough. The anticipation of getting there was worth it as was the climb, the view was great, all the way to Sydney. The sky was still pretty clear and sharp so I got a few good skyline pictures, none that would win a contest but at least I can say “I took that.” While I was busy with the camera gear, the wife decided that the story in the book was better than the view, she had her head in it the whole time. Everywhere we had been that day we saw evidence of rabbits, those little pellets they leave behind as well as the holes they dig looking for grass roots to eat, kangaroo droppings were all over the place as well.

I had been keeping an eye out for Birds, Roos and Reptiles, but hadn’t spotted any, other than the large crow I frightened the wife with by saying they love pecking long hair, it was on a branch just above her head, she squealed like a girl. She didn’t like rabbit poo for some reason, I was raised around wildlife and farmyard animals, and was familiar with the sight and smell. When I asked her to pick up my camera case which was sitting on the grass, she refused, “Rabbit poo’s all over it, I’m not touching that stuff” she was adamant. It had been a long day, I had climbed mountains, survived being lost in the wilderness, been screamed at, poo was the least of my concerns. We were going to wrap this up and head home after the “round the fence’ drive on the way out. I lowered the tripod to get better angles, sat down and finished my shots.

We started down the mountain skipping stops I hope to visit during the next trip, that is until a great discovery... I was amazed when rounding a curve to see in a field beside the road, “The Blue Tree,” This had to be a new species, leafless, alone and, no other word for it “BLUE”. “There you go” I said to the wife, “they were hiding the best for last back here in the corner of the gardens”. I had to get a close up photo so grabbed the tripod and walked across the field, yep, it was really blue. I haven’t got the full story on this yet, but will investigate further, it must have something to do with global cooling, things do go blue with cold you know.

Approaching the exit we found an interesting point of interaction between nature and humans, an effort had been made to accommodate the needs of one of the local inhabitants, the Cumberland Land Snail, meridolum corneovirens. From the scientific name I gather this is one of the vicious breeds of snail, eats meat. We saw three of the brutes leaving the area.

I had a good sleep that night, went to bed at 10:00 and woke at 5:30 am to the smell of farmyard. I had forgot the rabbit crap, took off my jeans and left them laying on the floor all night. I picked them up and had a look, sure enough the bum was spotted with little brown dots from when I sat on the grass to shoot photos. I’m glad they don’t keep cows in the botanic garden, I did sit in the car on the way home, we had stopped at that supermarket, yea... my favourite place on the couch, that’s always the way isn’t it, a househusbands work is never done. List for next trip, compass, sandwiches, hat, plastic bag for sitting on, wouldn’t go anywhere without, the wife.

JAWhite                                           Back to Main Page
June 2010

Photos: JAWhite