Hidden Secretes: Weekend Reflections

Reflections appear as ghostly figures in the Majorca windows. This building is an art deco treasure found in Centre Place - one of the City's iconic laneways.

Beneath wall to wall awnings and umbrellas, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, buzz of chatter and tinkling of table utensils embrace you like an old friend  as you turn into petite Degraves Street. Welcome to Mebourne's laneway and arcade culture.

Designer apparel, homewares, distinctive gifts, cobblers, dress makers, vintage whatever, fabulous coffee  and food, artisinal chocolate, pastries and cakes street art and  performers - whatever your fancy, it can be found in one of Melbourne's iconic lanes or arcades.

Graffiti takes many forms.

There is always a queue down the arcade waiting patiently for a table in the renown Hopetoun Tea Rooms - the meeting place for generations of Melbourne women in the Block Arcade.

The city's CBD consists of a rectangular grid of wide streets - the most well known to visitors being Swanson, Flinders , Collins and Bourke Streets. Parallel to these is a series of narrow streets, aptly named Little Collins Street, Little Bourke Street and so on. Interconnecting theses thoroughfares, broad and narrow, are  laneways and arcades with their own distinctive architecture and culture - often referred to as Melbourne's hidden secretes. One can take a formal tour with a specific focus  or just amble along on their own voyage of discovery.

Royal Arcade

The mythical figures of Gog and Magog stand guard over the clock in Royal Arcade. 

The roof of Melbourne Central

Too Hot to Handle

Billabong. Tabilk Winery, Australia

Gardening is spiritual, anchoring me to the earth and seasons – my form of green meditation. While I don’t apportion my time to gardening accordingly to its importance to my life, just wandering around the yard, pulling a few weeds here and there, spot watering and planning my next major activity are incredibly fulfilling and soothing. 

A worm on the 4th floor of Annelid House.

Part of my green landscape is my worm farm that supplies me with lovely, organic fertilizer while disposing of our herbaceous kitchen scraps. Harvested rain from the house roof usually manages to provide the garden with water until early summer. 

Bee-keeping activities have now ceased due to my allergies but I still delight in seeing bees in my garden foraging around in search of sweet nectar.  

So it is with a heavy heart that I have to report the death of the worms in the worm farm due to my forgetfulness.

The 4-tiered annelid-tower has survived in the shade for the last 10 years, through all weather - fair and foul. Kitchen scraps go into its top store, garden fertilizer and compost come out from the bottom– until last week’s unseasonal 41 ^o C. (106 ^o F). The weather was so uncomfortable that once I made it home from work and feed the troops, I just flopped around the house preparing the bare minimum for the following day, before collapsing onto my bed.

No thought was given to the new seedlings in my vegetable patch or to my wonderful worms.

Third floor worms

Suffering from the heat, I omitted to remove the lid off the worm farm to allow the tower to cool – a necessity once the thermometer hits 35 ^o C. My oversight became apparent when my little soil Trojans were to be fed during the weekend. As I approached the worm farm, laden with kitchen scraps, I noticed a cloud of frenetic flies. A foul odor hung in the air. ….. “Something’s wrong.” Removing the lid of the 4-tiered annelid-tower unleashed a sickening smell and revealed a sea of discolored, putrefying worms. Phew!  My supportive family retreated indoors amidst screams of disgust leaving me to deal with the product of my neglect. Not an easy task given the size of the tower, and the stench.

On our 12 acres in the countryside, huge eucalyptus tree branches frequently
fall during strong winds,  adding to our list of chores.
Their removal can consume hours of our time and test our patience.

Yes, lurking under my suburban exterior is an avid greenie – not one who hugs trees in protest, but one who hugs them out of sheer delight; inhaling the sent of their wood,  feeling the texture of their bark, observing the intricacies of their being and feasting on the hues and contrasts of the colours of their bark. Isn’t nature wonderful?

Historical or Hysterical?

A quick dash into the city by train, to one of my absolute favourite shops, Il Papiro, was undertaken last weekend to purchase some gifts for a friend’s significant birthday. 

On the return journey, just as the train was about to depart from the CBD, a quietly spoken family (father, mother and 2 young children) joined the empty carriage in 

Brighton Bathing boxes

which I was seated. The map in the mother’s hand and snippets of conversation suggested that they were country residents en route to see the Brighton bathing boxes. As the train made its way out of the CBD, the father confidently pointed out the city’s landmarks to his children. 

Along the train line, one can occasionally catch a glimpse of graffiti-art juxtaposed with what can only be described as ugly acts of vandalism executed with spray cans. “ Some of that graffiti is historical now”, proclaimed the father. “What’s historical? inquired his young son. “Well, it’s like when the Romans invaded bits of Europe”, explained the father in a less self-assured tone.

A 5 second silence followed, then a little voice said, “So when did the Romans come here?”  No reply. The conversation was skilfully diverted to the previous evening’s football game. As the train approached my station I stood at the door to hear a child inquiring, “Do we still have another holiday to go this year or is this the only one?”  The train door closed behind me. 

Next stop - Brighton Beach. 

Foreground: Brighton Beach bathing boxes. Background: Melbourne CBD

Liquid Gold

Google*

In our parched continent, water is gold.

Despite the calendar advancing to autumn in the southern hemisphere, the garden has been so dry this week that the soil became hydrophobic. 

In one drop of water are found all the secrets of all the oceans. ~ Kahil Gibran

Water is life's mater and matrix, mother and medium. There is no life without water.

~ Albert Szent-Gyorgyi

Last Wednesday, I surrendered to the unseasonal heat and watered the plants, mesmerized by the jeweled water droplets - clinging to the grass; rolling over the desiccated earth; finding a place to nestle in the leaves of  hardy succulents ……… The simple things in life can give so much pleasure while infusing us with gratitude.

Our bodies are moulded rivers. ~  Novalis   

Google* If you are the owner of this image, please contact me so I can acknowledge your work.

The Good Life?

This time of year is not a time to be declaring war, but I'm breaking with

A little visitor to my garden.

tradition. Let it be known that I'm officially at war with some cunning rats and outwardly cute, but very destructive, possums. No Christmas spirit is lingering in my soul when it comes to these destructive creatures.

Courtesy of SGA Australia

Rats are thwarting my efforts to live a greener lifestyle - the good life in the suburbs. My first harvest of pumpkins, nurtured through "fair weather and foul' were all found to be hollow when harvested - neatly eaten away with just enough flesh left on the pumpkin skins to maintain their shape and keep me blissfully ignorant of the rodent activities within ....... until I picked my bounty!  Currently the Lebanese cucumbers have teeth marks - rather big teeth marks - left in their remaining flesh, as do my zucchinis. Daily, half-eaten tomatoes appear on my lovingly tendered tomato bushes - I have yet to taste one of my home grown tomatoes this season. Score: rats, 4; city gardener, 0. 

Courtesy of http://sudoku.com.au

The lemon trees is another battlefront where the war is not proceeding in my favour. Here my enemy is  a battalion of ring-tailed possums, which devour the rind and pith of the ripening lemons, leaving the perfectly intact lemon flesh swing from the branches or scattered on the ground. Possum battalion 2 are stripping my climbing roses that once adorned the walls of the house whilst the third battalion are decimating the 50 year old camellias. Not to be outdone by the appealing looking ring-tails, the bushy tailed possums gallop over our roof top, dislodging tiles and mortar. Occasionally there is a possum war overhead, with blood curdling screams that would fuel nightmares. 

Possums have been protected in the very unnatural metropolitan landscape for many years. Catching them is illegal and they refuse to be deterred by any of the chemical weapons my well researched arsenal - cloves of garlic, camphor, quassia chips, naphthalene,  mosquito coils, blood and bone fertilizer and POSS-OFF (a natural Possum deterrent). 

Bushy tailed possum Courtesy of SGA Australia 

As a last resort an expensive, battery driven possum deterrent was recently purchased - a Christmas present to myself. However, instead of being frightened off by the strobe lights and high pitched noise of this electrical gadget, these furry blighters appear to be partying in its flashing lights, snubbing there little pink noses at me. I am ashamed to admit that once, in utter desperation, I attempted combat with a jousting stick, only to be sprayed from above, with my enemy's foul smelling urine. Score: Possums 7; me 0
Being outsmarted by such tiny creatures is battering my self-esteem, the garden is being ruined and the vegetable plot is looking very, very sad; but, I'm not willing to admit defeat and fly the white flag ...... yet!

Joyeux Noël

Merry Christmas and best wishes for a peaceful, prosperous and happy 2012.

                                                                   

 Joyeux Noël et une très bonne année 2012. 

Que cette année vous apporte, à vous et à votre famille, bonheur et prospérité.


Signing off until the New Year
Bisous.

Christmas Carols

Christmas carols are embraced with fervor in the Land Downunder, despite their occasional inappropriateness!

Courtesy of Andrew Weldon and The Age

Currently the temperature in Melbourne is hovering around 30 ⁰ C

Joyeux Noël 

Mon Printemps

 The sky is monotonal grey, heralding the promise of Spring rain. Will it deliver?

Spring should be refreshing – a time of hope and renewal. The rhythm of this season is reassuring ……….the fleeting displays of blossom. ………festoons of light green confetti cling securely to the bare branches of winter……….the fresh green, (occasionally tinged with yellow or pink ) of the new growth on the evergreens ……….

the blazes of yellow wattle along the roadside. ……….the angle of the sun that fills the house with golden hues and creates intricate pink sunsets. 

              And the scent-laden air carrying the perfumes and unwelcome allergens of Spring – reminders that life is never perfect.

During the last decade, the promise of Spring has given way to despair as the seasonal rains dwindled. There is a whole generation that is unaware that in Victoria, October is “the wettest month”. This is evident by the recent, uncharacteristic rise in the number of Spring brides. 

Although it has just commenced, this Spring has the hallmarks of the Springs of old. Wonderful …….except for my red nose and heavy dependence on antihistamines!

Le Printemps 
par Théophile Gautier
Regardez les branches

Comme elles sont blanches,

Il neige des fleurs.
Riant de la pluie

Le soleil essuie

les saules en pleurs.
Et le ciel reflète

Dans la violette

Ses pures couleurs...
La mouche ouvre l'aile

Et la demoiselle

Aux prunelles d'or,

Au corset de guêpe

Dépliant son crêpe,

A repris l'essor.
L'eau gaiement babille,

Le goujon frétille

Un printemps encore !

Spring is a time when I dust off my camera- I love capturing the images of Spring flowers. What do you love about Spring?

Floods Across Australia - No Longer Singing in the Rain!

Like many Australians, I’ve fantasised about rain during our long 10 plus years of drought, as dams and water supplies across the country emptied, crops failed, stock perished, paddocks turned to dust, and water restrictions tightened, but this incessant rain has lost its appeal.

Slow floods; flash floods; interminable floods.

Isolation.

Desperation.

Lives lost. Livelihoods swept away, hopes and futures shattered.

And the financial cost – mind-boggling.

However, amongst all of this devastation and despair are amazing stories of survival, and bravery; heart warming tales of camaraderie and newly forged bonds……..Very black clouds with a tiny silver lining.

In the beginning ………………..

Where and where will it end?