A Winter Garden is a Lovesome Thing

 

Our backyard garden: It always heartens me when these lovely colours push through before Spring can be hoped for. Winter flowers ... primulas, cyclamens, and a touch of orange marigold somehow still hanging on since summer - and the green is native violets, plus nasturtium and even a touch of robust parsley. A bird bath and bird feeder, and a path heading towards the sun. ... And so one must remain optimistic, thankful for Nature's miracles, and hopeful that when we get to the other side of Covid19 we will be treating each other, as well as Mother Nature, with far more tender loving kindness than heretofore. 

And while we're enjoying the diversity of colours (have you noticed how many shades of green there are in this picture?) - it just happens to be Wear it Purple day - a day to celebrate and support young (and surely older?) people to feel proud and safe to be who they are on the rainbow spectrum of sex, sexuality and gender - remembering that we can be any kind of mix that feels comfortable - and that diversity and not stereotypes is the key.🌈

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Room - a Tape Recorder - and a Ghetto Cabaret. Theatre Lives! - at fortyfive downstairs

Image
Three good pieces of theatre in the last four weeks - all seen at fortyfive downstairs , Flinders Lane, Melbourne. An unusual production of A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf was   presented by Sentient Theatre - it's an adaptation of Woolf's lectures given to the women of Cambridge University in 1928. Somewhat surprisingly, this production had a cast of four, three women and one man. Each was an aspect of Virginia's argument. They tossed Woolf's ideas around the space, challenging each other with her witty, literary, feminist teasings. It took a while to get used to four voices, but it worked, cleverly keeping the pace of Woolf's playful propositions afloat - though not always tapping into her mischievous wit. This production is going on regional tour - do see it - the ideas are as fresh as they were when Virginia Woolf first penned them - which does not say much for the progress of women's place in society. It's good to see Virginia Woolf
Read more

Bubbling over

Image
I have been celebrating with friends. Popping the cork on champagne. Yippee! Last week I secured a Literary Agent! After my last post about the slowness of snails everything suddenly sped up. I tried a bit of lateral thinking ... and it paid off. I am now represented by Martin Shaw, who is associated with Alex Adsett Publishing Services (they represent Melissa Lucashenko who just won the Miles Franklin Award - not that I'm name-dropping or anything). I couldn't be happier with this turn of events. Especially as Martin Shaw is "very excited" about my manuscript, and very positive about its publishing potential. So one enormous hurdle scrambled over - and just a few more yet to come!  - and, but, here is a 1923 update : long story short: My manuscript is now published titled A Secretive Life and is available as paperback or eBook via all usual outlets (see more recent posts re). Martin Shaw and I parted company in the end, very amicably, and the champagne was g
Read more

Anzac Day 25th April

Image
Anzac Day (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps). A day of Remembrance to honour those valiant people who served in uniform. It feels especially important (given our own travails) to remember their sacrifices, difficulties, courage and fear. Their battles were with bombs and bullets. At 6 a.m. the nation will commemorate the day from home, standing at the front gate, or on the balcony or at the window: a communion of thought, followed by the sound of the Last Post - on the radio/TV, or perhaps it will come drifting across the rooftops played on trombone, trumpet or flute by some able musician. I'm going to take a moment to remember my English paternal grandfather, Corporal Edwin Percy Hardy, 1882-1941. He served with the Royal Army Medical Corps, 6th Field, Ambulance. Warrant Officer Class 2. He served in WW1. Here's the only photo I have of him during that time, he is the tall balding man with his back to us, centre right, somewhere in France: In his wallet he carried a
Read more