The Old Water Pipe
I began to wonder if he had finally become unhinged by the ongoing battle with the water, but eventually he prevailed. Now he finally has the water pressure he has desired for so long. I must admit though that I am a little concerned for his mental health. I fear that he may lose the will to live; he has finally achieved his highest ambition and what will he focus his energy and attention on? I will just have to think of some more tasks to keep him occupied, that will be the best plan. He will thank me one day, you can be sure of it.
Though the weather forecast was for a bleak Saturday it turned out to be very mild and sunny. We walked to the netball courts to see the young Miss Peaceable play. What a star! She shot nine goals for her team and we are convinced she will be in The Silver Ferns one day. Having spent all those years ferrying our own four children to football, netball, water polo, dance classes and so forth we felt very nostalgic and sentimental to see all the young netballers giving their all on the courts. How crazy are we?
Our little town also had the historic rugby match this weekend where the two local teams (who share the same playing field as their home ground) had their annual grudge match. As I know little and care less about rugby I didn't go to watch, but it was great to think that there are still these local games all round the country where the town turns out to cheer on their "boys" in these days of professional rugby and huge salaries. I could hear them all from our garden where I was doing battle with the oxalis. What a close match! 12 points to 11, and obviously a very exciting game from the sound of the cheers and groans coming from the footy field.
Gay Border Camellia
There is very little flowering in the garden. I bought this camellia a few weeks ago and am pleased to find that it has a luscious scent. I liked the description of its blossoms but have always been disappointed by supposedly scented camellias in the past. This one is called Gay Border(!). The scent is lemony and quite strong.
Now I have to admit to being rather plebian where flowers are concerned. Give me the bold, the brash, those flashy flowers with obvious charms! I often read gardening books where authors sing the praises of shy retiring flowers which one must inspect closely (usually on one's hands and knees) to appreciate. Give me the lillies, roses and orchids any day which demand our attention and have assertive natures and strong perfumes! But I couldn't resist putting some little snowdrops in this pretty cup my mum gave me and was very pleased with them. Plus which let's face it, I'm not exactly spoiled for choice at the moment.
A Friend In The Garden
All day a fantail followed me around the gardening, fluttering so close that it sometimes touched me. It is tempting to think that they are friendly and wanting human company but apparently (so those in the know delight in pointing out), the reason for this behaviour is that they want to catch any insects which may be disturbed while we are gardening. Yet another disappointment in the garden but I secretly cling to my belief that they like to be around people.
Antique Shades Pansies
These pansies are in the "antique shades" range and I much prefer them to the single coloured ones I planted earlier in the season. In yet another gardening book (why do we torture ourselves in this way?) I read one author describe how two different types of pansies planted in modest numbers had created offspring in a myriad of hues when they went to seed. Why is it that my pansies only very grudgingly produce the occasional bloom, die quickly and don't self seed, never mind all this wanton cross pollinating?
Mr Shoestring had to travel to far flung places around the country this week and brought back these two wonderful fur stoles for art deco weekend. Isn't he well trained? I was so impressed.
He also bought this pretty pink glass plate to add to the pink glass collection which is well on its way now.
But in case you think I have had things all my own way this week, look at this beautiful Gladstone bag which my mum Bobbie (or Wobbly as she is known by young children) found for Mr Shoestring. It even has luggage tickets on the end which record its travels around New Zealand. When we polish it up we will carefully polish around the tickets so as not to damage them. It puts me in mind of travelling down the main trunk line, stopping for a pie in Taumarunui and having a stewed cup of tea in one of those New Zealand Rail mugs which were virtually indestructible. Ah bless! Happy days.