But the rain held off yesterday for the Sills Bend afternoon wedding.
Unfortunately it didn't hold off today and I was forced to abandon the gardening.
I moved two bluestones, potted 15 cuttings and half grubbed out the rotting stump of the walnut tree.
I hate gardening. There are crawling things in the dirt.
Weeds spring up like weeds. I went to all the trouble of putting down newspaper and mulch under the lime tree which is supposed to stop weeds but there's a fine crop just waiting to be pulled up....again.
My triumph is that the lemon geranium I filched from somebody's garden is flourishing.
My defeat was trying to dig a hole to put it in. I can't dig the spade into the ground so out with the bread knife to cut a square in the grass and see if that works. That's the thing with gardens, they expect you to go knee down and worship. Not with my knees.
Bluestones are a lot heavier than they were 8 years ago or my heart attack threshold is getting lower.
Keep raining Melbourne.
26 comments:
You hate gardening? I love gardening. I don't get to do any anymore. There's no veggies growing in my yard now, because of the water resrictions, not even in pots. My fruit trees in pots are watered once a week just to keep them alive, any fruit is a bonus, the lawn is green because that's where our indoor water is bucketed to. (It's actually in the lease that the lawn must be cared for.) Everything else is sort of surviving. There's pots with palms and cactus, but none of these require attention from me at all. I really miss the digging, the planting, the nurturing. The excitement of buds, flowers, fruit. *sigh*
That heat wave in late January really snapped the final straw for me, I've let everything run amok.
So, when you're done in your garden....
River, if you ever decide to desert the couch potato and move to Melbourne and take up a Jim's gardening franchise, you have your first customer and it looks like Jayne will be second. Kath's getting busy so there could be a third there and you're on your way to your first million.
Jayne, I try but it's just not relaxing for me. I'm trying to take bluestones from a long garden bed to make a smaller one so I can manage it better. They weigh a ton so it's slowly slowly.
Thank you spam but I've had hypnosis and when I have a nervous attack at 2 in the morning I still take every pill in the house to relax.
"I hate gardening. There are crawling things in the dirt."
No, that's not gardening. That's politicians.
About fifteen years ago they began pulling up bluestone pitchers from a large historic area beside Yarraville railway station. I couldn't understand why they'd want to do it, but went with my ute one night and grabbed about twenty of these bluestones. They're in my backyard now, an historic walk to the clothes line. Meanwhile I wonder where the bluestone from Pentridge has gone, and indeed, why such misery has become a gaudy dollhouse estate. Why do people let these things happen? Well the truth is the latte set aren't much good at saving anything, they gnaw their own arses; the same type protesting about new apa-a-a-artments etc along St Kilda foreshore are the types who'll live in them. Watch and see. What an effete, bullshitting lot of bastards, fair dinkum. Stooges.
Or why is Fitzroy, Richmond, Kensington, Yarraville, etc etc etc, full of fatarse nurses and schoolteachers, enchanted by the poverty of previous generations.
-Robert.
On topic.
Move to Melbourne?? Surely you jest. Been there, done that. Twice. (Although you guys DO have more water......).
I'm staying here in the good old S of A, all my kids are here and I like to be near even though I don't see them much, they're my "rescue plan" in case "something" happens. Melbourne would be too far away, also L's family is there and I don't recall him ever saying anything nice about them.
You go along Paisley Street Footscray and there's always someone getting searched. It gives me the shits!
It never happens in nice suburbs, like Fitzroy and Yarraville.
In Footscray Plaza yesterday and I'm coming out of Coles and stop off at Bakers Delight where a little Chinese girl with a big pair of bunny ears on her head commences to jabber at me all excited, pointing out at the street. I wanted a loaf of bread and couldn't understand ONE WORD she's saying except "police". Well I look where she's pointing and there's three divvy vans outside, coppers standing around. Ah, she thinks I've come from out there, wants to know what's going on. Meanwhile she's looking so cute in those big coloured bunny ears, seems to like them, so I'm anxious to go along with it, and eventually it strikes her that I've come from Coles, not from the street, and she grabs the loaf I've ordered and puts it through the slicer, still highly animated, jabbering all the way, and I holler back: vague replies. Boy, she was cute.
It only happened once.
But-
MISS PAVLOV WAS IN THRALL TO A MAN!
I've got proof.
Sexy old thing.
It happened in a cafe called I love you.
Romantic joint.
It all went well.
Until he picked up a dessert spoon to tackle his minestone.
After that she knew she could never trust him.
Minestrone. It's a soup or something.
I lit a monster
And it ran around.
(My epitaph)
So the coppers weren't looking for you R.H.?
Police are always looking for characters, they're masters of creative writing, some of the stories they recite in the County Court would shrivel your bosom.
I don't know if you've seen this link or not, but if you haven't, it's a little thank you for sending me those lovely packages (something more concrete will be sent eventually!)
http://www.dolcegabbanacalendar.com/
I think the words floating over the top are hilarious, but I think you'll be too distracted by the rest of it to care...
I have bought a piano from an op shop. $200.
Nelson Place yesterday and I bumped into Miss N. The young, the sweet, the sensible Miss N. She's getting married in October, and the bloke's an idiot. I gave her a big kiss on the cheek, from total despair. Then we sat outside Porto Vecchio. And I bought her a little cake, a chocolate mousse.
Eventually she said: "What would make you happy, Robert?" and I had a think about it for a long time.
"I'd like to be like you," I said, and got a smile from her. It wasn't the whole truth of course, but near enough, enough for her.
I am hurt by that comment (ha ha) but grab what you want, I'm a philanthropic writer. Just like you, in your way, with your philanthropic cafe.
Hello sweetiepies and it's your lover boy calling, off to Werribee today to see the boys, big barbecue, eight-hundred dollars worth of fish I'm told, sounds like someone's done a warehouse job, ha ha ha. Well I been knocking stuff off since I was six years-old, it was a community effort, one time a soft drink truck broke down in Simmons Street and by the time the driver got back from calling for help there wasn't a single bottle left on that truck, ha ha ha, old grannies helped out and all.
Sociology talks out its arse, understands nothing. Neither did old Moses; the bible commandments need modifying:
"Thou Shalt Not Steal -unless it's from a big company."
Damn right. That's better. The poor have to grab what they can.
THE OPINIONS EXPRESSED ON THIS BLOG ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE PROPRIETOR!
(but probably are)
Ha Ha Ha!
-ROBBBBBERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!~
River, the only men looking for Robbert would be the 'Men in Black'.
Caroline, make sure there is not a magic lamp around when you make that retort.
&duck, glad you could use my 25 year old hoardings. I hope that URL is dial-up friendly and I'm never impressed by D&G clothes.
Robbert, a broken down truck is fair game and always has been especially in the days when the local cops rode bicycles. My dad and his mates could strip it and have it sold in the local pub before the plod turned up. The fun is not so innocent these days though.
Very nice Duckie, but I kept getting distracted by his bushy eyebrows.
His EYEBROWS!
You are having a bad week, aren't you, poor thing...
I love gardening but like you can no longer dig enough to plant...which is really frustrating...I propogate a lot of plants by waiting for rain and just shoving succulents and other into the ground and hoping for a strike...
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