long-toothed hinterland dweller

Middle-age

I'm feeling very contented with my middle-agedness right now.

With a mother living in an interstate nursing home, growing increasingly frail and flickering in and out of dementia ...

and a daughter, also interstate, full of excitement as she documents for us her first pregnancy * ...   

I've decided that middle age is quite a comfortable place to be. 

Once you are able to opt out of the hassles of trying to be someone -- or to prove yourself -- there is the luxury of time for reflection.    Life can be both satisfying and enjoyable from the perspective of an interested (or amused) spectator.

At age 62, I'm hanging on to the middle-age tag.  While I still have all of my faculties and plenty of options for spending the coming years of my life, I consider myself very fortunate indeed.

* (Yes, and you can expect the inevitable baby pics some time in June.)

Rampant growth

Another hot day.  The best place to be is indoors with the airconditioner on.  It's too hot even to use the pool during the heat of the day.  When I swam last night at 7 p.m. the temperature of the water was a soupy 30 C.  Our neighbours just installed solar heating for their pool!!  It will be a boon in the winter months, but I wonder how it goes on days like this. 

Our domestic solar hot water system always brings our water close to boiling point in this very hot weather - and there is no way of regulating it.  I frequently scald myself at the kitchen sink -- and the rule when taking a shower is: ALWAYS TURN ON THE COLD TAP FIRST.

I've been with my computer in the study most of this afternoon.  One thing I enjoyed was taking a tour of the Allotment lady's blog in far off Norfolk.  Over the past three days (Dec 26, 27, 28) she has posted the most appealing set of photos of SNOW - taken either in her garden or at her allotment.  My only experience of snow like that was back in 1969 when I spent a year as a student in Manchester.  I can't imagine growing vegetables in such conditions.

Allotment lady clearly enjoys being out and about, regardless of the weather.  I am fascinated by her efforts to look after her poor little hens - who obviously hate being barefoot in the snow.

Back in the real world ... our place is looking more like a jungle every day.  Against the backdrop of native woodland, these are some of the trees in our orchard.  The bananas were planted as suckers only 6 months ago.  Also in the picture is a mandarine, a tangelo and a tamarillo -- and a glimpse of the iron roof of the chook pen - currently in vacant possession.

The sweet potato patch would take over the rest of the garden if we allowed it.  Here the potato vine has climbed right up and over a little chinotto* tree,  You can just see the white name tag and a bit of its wooden stake in the centre.  One tiny orange fruit is visible right in the middle.

I think the chinotto needs to be rescued -- but whether to dig it up ? or remove the vine ? 

Either way, it's a job for when the weather cools down.

* Chinotto - Citrus aurantium var. myrtifolia 'Chinotto'.  An ornamental shrub thought to be a hybrid or sport of the sour orange.  Has small round bitter fruit with rough skin.  Used for marmalades and liqueurs.

Proudly organic

This unusual hibiscus (Hibiscus tiliaceus) with its large (up to 9 " across) variegated pink and cream leaves is thriving in the current tropical conditions.

This one is called 'Hilo Rainbow' and the flowers are a lemony cream with dark crimson centres.  Providing a great contrast beside the uniformity of the other dark green shrubs, it's one of my favourites.

Chomping insects apparently like it too.  I found a large well-fed grass-hopper lurking under one of the leaves.

Foliage like this is displayed as a badge of honour in an organic garden.

Morning rounds of the garden

The passion-fruit vine is flowering with beautiful, rich red and purple blooms.  This is likely to be the only pleasure we will have from this plant.  The possums are always quick to help themselves to the fruit, well before it is ripe.

No Christmas beetles in sight, but here is a big black Rhinoceros beetle (Xylotrupes gideon).

This one is  7cm long.  They make good kids' pets - mostly because they live about as long as the average child's interest span.   

This one was dead when we found it.  The grandchildren will still enjoy it when they visit tomorrow.

   

The Dragon Fruit flowers have drooped and are hanging like long pink and cream tassels.  Now we want to know how and where the fruit will form.  It's worth a daily visit to see the current rapid changes.  But we suspect these will also be on the possums' menu.  Perhaps we can possum-proof these two by putting some kind of barrier around the trellis post.

The meaning of life ?

This is not something I've ever worried too much about.  I am happy to leave it to greater minds than mine to contemplate.  So I wasn't in a position to give an immediate answer when this question was put to me in a comment on yesterday's post.

I think I'll be happy to go along with what Michael Leunig had to say in this short poem.  I only came upon it late this Christmas eve when I paused during my gift wrapping to dip into the book of poems that I had bought to give M who is an absolute Leunig fanatic.

      Here I Am (manifesto)

      Here I am,

      Alive on earth,

      Conscious

      Unconscious,

     Semi-conscious.

      Knowing others,

      Known to others,

      Yet also unknowable

      And alone forever.

      Soon I will not be here.

      Hurrah!

Although best known as a contemporary Australian cartoonist, widely published in newspapers and periodicals across the country, Leunig is very much a philosopher and social commentator.  He uses his distinctive cartoons and a few favourite characters to get his message across. 

His poetry, some of it illustrated in typical whimsical style, has been described as naive. Maybe -- but it hits home with its sheer, in-your-face simplicity.

Here is another of his poems that I found myself reading, very appropriately on Christmas eve -

      What Did You Get?

      What did you get on your Christmas morn,

      On the Christmas morn when you were born?

      Did you get some milk?

      Did you get some pain?

      Did you get some hurt that you can’t explain?

      Did you get a star from high above?

      Did you get the gaze of a mother’s love –

      The spark that leaps from eye to eye

      And twinkles ‘til the day you die?

      Oh what did we get on our Christmas morn,

      On the Christmas morn when we were born?

      

And here, an example of one of his cartoons -

Christmas Eve spectacular

The Dragon Fruit, or Pitaya, is described as a spectacular night-flowering cactus.  Some twelve months ago, knowing little about this unusual fruiting plant,  we bought and planted cuttings of the two common varieties, a red and a yellow.  These branching cacti grew so quickly that a sturdy trellis had to be erected in a hurry to hold them; the same trellis that provided a perch for our frogmouth visitor not so long ago.

Then, just a month ago, I reported excitedly that one of the plants was sporting two tiny buds.  By yesterday they had developed into large creamy white blooms that were obviously at the point of opening. 

'Tonight will be the night', my husband announced,  'If we come and check again after dark, these flowers will be open.'  We agreed that it was a sight we didn't want to miss.

But in the busyness of Christmas eve, with all the wrapping, and the cleaning, and the food preparation -- we both did!

Excepting that, at 2-30 this morning and quite exhausted after a too-long blog session, I suddenly remembered.

With torch and camera, out I trudged into the still, black night to see what I could see.  This is what I found. 

That's it!  The show's now over.   The display opened and closed in a single night.

Thank you ladies and gentlemen for your attention.  I hope to be back again in a few months to bring you Part 3, the actual fruit.

Jingle bells

I decorated the reindeer with curling ribbon for Christmas.  I have a collection of three brass reindeer and in recent years have been keeping my eyes open for others to add to the herd.  It's a good excuse to go fossicking in antique shops and second-hand stores. 

Old brass ornaments are hard to come by these days.  They are rarely seen on display in homes; I think they lost their place on the mantelpiece at about the same time as the decanter of sherry disappeared from the sideboard.  But not being one to slavishly follow fashion ...

My collection began with the figure in the middle, which came with my husband as part of his dowry. He had inherited several pieces of brass from his mother.  I am told she was very proud of her brass and kept it beautifully polished.  The reindeer was accompanied by a lion and a nut-cracker in the shape of a crocodile.

Personally I prefer the look of brass with a layer of verdigris.  I made this decision after the first couple of sessions armed with the Brasso and a soft cloth, trying to buff the family treasures.  Once I abandoned the idea of polishing them, I felt more favourably disposed towards these objets d'art - hence my acquisition of the two reindeer mates, plus a peacock, a dog and a handsome Chinese horse.  The reindeer are my favourites though, and I'm keen on the idea of finding others.

With the kids not arriving until after Christmas Day, the decorated reindeer and a wreath on the front door are the sum of my efforts at house decoration this year.  I am gleeful that for the first time in many years, I can get away with leaving our tired little artificial tree in its box. 

After all, dangling things on a tree is such a fiddly job - up there with polishing brass.

Weird habits meme

I had been thinking to go into semi-hibernation until the end of the festive season - or till the end of the current heatwave - whichever came first.  But then I was tagged by Elsewhere with this meme.

Here are the rules:

The first player of this game starts with the topic five weird habits of mine, and people who are tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. At the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal telling them they are tagged.

When I thought about it, I decided that I actually have far more bad habits than weird ones.  Nevertheless this is what I came up with:

1. I prefer to eat salads with chopsticks.  It's much easier for things such as lettuce and olives, than trying to skewer them with a fork.
2. I save anything that can be recycled: plastic bags, rubber bands, newspapers, egg cartons and string (Yes, Elsewhere I am one of them - or is it 'those'?.)  (Elsewhere once blogged about people she identified as being of the 'string saver' generation.)
3. I have trouble throwing out food that is still edible. (It's that same generational thing I fear.)  I will happily bake a whole cake to avoid wasting one cracked egg.
4. I have a daily energy burst between the hours of 4 p.m. and 7p.m.and again between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m.  That's the time when I will tackle the housework or start writing a report.  It's when I perform at my best, both physically and mentally.  Unfortunately they're not the best times to recruit others for a team effort.
5. I never leave the house without a pen. I have no ability to memorize numbers and always fear I may find myself in the situation of needing to take down an important phone number, or maybe the rego number of a hit-and-run driver.

Nothing terribly weird there!   I did think of consulting a few family members for their suggestions, but I may have ended up with an over-supply.

NOW, whom am I to tag?   A few people I thought of seem to have temporarily dropped out of the blogosphere; maybe they are already in holiday mode - or just in preparation mode.  So, casting my net far and wide, I'll call upon Pat the Chooks in the Highlands of Scotland, fellow Queenslander Res Publica in Bundaberg, Jean of this too in London, Sonia at Leaves of Grass in Brazil and Pablo of Roundrock Journal in Missouri - that is if they have anything to admit to ... and if they feel so inclined.

And now I might crawl back into my little hole again for a few days. We're sweltering here in the Hinterland and there's a high temp of 38 C predicted again for tomorrow.  (That's the official Weather Bureau prediction, Tjilpi.) 

And yes, Jean.  We will be eating hot turkey and ham and Christmas pudding on Christmas Day.  That is probably one of the weirdest (collective) habits of all!

Pre-Christmas doldrums

The glitch with Typepad last week broke my train of posting.  Since then there have been days of despondency - usual for me at this time of the year.  I know that even among the fortunate like me, it is common to feel depression around Christmas.

This morning I have been up since four, unable to sleep from the itching of bites on my face and arms.  A zealous mosquito had obviously got through our flyscreen defence and spent the night dive-bombing selected landing zones on my exposed skin.  When I finally gave up and left the room, I noted that my still-sleeping, tougher-skinned husband had apparently escaped the puncturing proboscis.  Even now he is still asleep. I expect my mozzie friend has had his fill.

Leaving the bed also enabled me to escape the hordes of gloomy, pre-dawn thoughts. Yesterday I had resolutely hit the shops armed with a 'do or die' list, knowing that it was absolutely the last day that I could put gifts into the mail.  As always, now I was being plagued with doubts and anxieties.  Would my Mum be scathing about toiletries yet again?  Would S like the colour of that top?  Would it even fit?  Did N already have one of those clever tools I thought would be just right?  And after enduring the snaking queue at the Post Office - and forking out on those horrific postal charges - would Australia Post deliver my parcels on time?

But my mind kept coming back to a woman from yesterday whose face I hadn't even seen ...  After only an hour in the shops I had made surprising progress and already needed to go to the automatic teller to top up with cash.  In front of me a younger woman was hunched over the machine pushing the buttons.  Even from behind, her demeanour suggested despair.  She didn't even glance over her shoulder as she extracted her notes and disappeared, leaving her transaction record still in the slot.  I pulled it out.

      Withdrawal:     $170.00

      Account Balance:    38c

Just four days before Christmas ... and more than likely this was a mother with gifts to buy and festivities to supply.  $170 !   My visit to the bookshop alone accounted for almost that amount. I hoped that she had other reserves - or at least some space on a credit card.

I kept on with my shopping, spending a hundred here and two hundred there, but after that I started looking at the faces in the mall ... and wondering how many people were going to be skint before Christmas even arrived.

These are the kind of thoughts that tend to spoil Christmas for me.

Queen of the Night

This image was gathered from my garden just half an hour ago when I stepped out into the pitch black night with my camera to point and click a number of times at a specific bush I couldn't see, but only smell.  I needed to capture it with the flash as it's one of those plants that only opens its flowers properly at night.

Only yesterday was its identity revealed to me, when a visiting friend casually referred to it by name - 'Oh, I see you have a Night Flowering Jasmine!'

It was one of the miserable, ailing specimens that we inherited when we bought the house - all of them growing in a dry narrow bed, hard against the brick front of the house itself.

Fortunately they all became part of a mass relocation project when, during the Great Termite War of 2002, our pest exterminator military advisers told us we should remove all vegetation growing within a metre of the building.

With a bob-cat and a load of imported soil, we hastily prepared a new bed in the middle of the lawn, replanting as many plants as could be removed, including sad little Jessamine.

Photo: Night Blooming Jasmine (Cestrum nocturnum) - the red splotch is a petal from the poinciana tree above.

More good fortune struck for this group of plants when, a year later, we installed a bio-sewerage system and this bed was nominated as the area to receive the nutrient rich outfall.  Despite the ongoing drought, from then on everything in this bed thrived.  I noticed that this unidentified little bush flowered from time to time, but only last year did its powerful scent make its presence felt.  We noticed it mostly at night, and on many occasions we had to close all the bedroom windows to keep out the heady scent.

Now I know it by name - Night Blooming Jasmine or Night Scented Jessamine, or more poetically 'Queen of the Night' and of couse via the 'Net I've discovered much more.  It's of West Indian origin and does best in the warm tropics.  In Florida and Hawaii it is classed as invasive.   But Bill Josey and Harry Warren both loved it so much that they each composed a piece of music named for it. 

Right now ours is in its heyday - even out-scenting the frangipannis growing on either side.  Its fragrance has been described as intoxicating.  I'm inclined to agree.  After taking my photo I came inside and firmly shut the perfume out.  But tomorrow, as evening approaches, we'll let some creep in again -  and when we've had our fill we'll close the doors.

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