Over the past few months we’ve had a regular visitor to our back garden, or to be more precise, to our swimming pool.
We enjoy the pool on a hot day too!
A duck must have mistaken our pool for a nice relaxing pond, in which to float around and casually pass the time of day. Obviously the chlorine and salt added to the pool has not had any adverse effect to his health as he has returned, again and again, even occasionally bringing his lady friend along with him!
In the eighteen years that we have had the pool this is the first duck that has taken a liking to it, which has left me wondering….why? Is this the first duck to ever notice, over the past eighteen years, that the pool is there? Or, have the others been put off by the smell of salt and chlorine?
Perhaps our visitor is simply an eccentric duck!
I'm up here, Mr Duck. Look this way!
I’ve tried to get a photo of this cute little guy for ages, but every time the camera has reached my face, he flies away!
This morning, however, at 7am, armed with both camera and determination, I actually photographed him! They are not the best photos of all time, that’s a certainty, but at least they are proof that I’m not hallucinating!
I’ve noticed that all the photos I take in the early morning and also later in the afternoon have a fuzzy look to them, so just to satisfy myself that the light of the day can make a huge difference to the quality of a photo, I took another photo of the same place, same zoom, but at 1pm this afternoon.
Bring Mrs Duck with you next time. Midday would suit me just fine!
The result? Much clearer, and far more vivid in colour.
Now, if the duck will just make a visit around midday, my camera will be waiting. Hey, I’ll even invite his lady friend! 🙂
Many years ago my mother slipped on a wet floor at the local butcher shop, later learning that she had broken her toe. As Mum related the story to family and friends over the next few days, she would erupt into fits of laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks and hardly able to finish her story.
The reason for Mum’s hilarity was simple. The butcher who had attempted to help her up off the floor after her fall was around five-foot-nothing tall and perhaps weighed eight stone, if he was lucky!
Mum imagined what a sight it must have been, with this tiny gentleman (of course he was a gentleman, he was helping a lady!) helping a substantially larger woman up off the slippery floor!
And that, in a nutshell, was the story of my life, growing up with a mother who could always see the funny side in any situation, no matter how serious it may seem to others.
To quote an overused cliché, my family have always seen the cup as being half full, rather than half empty!
Today has been one of ‘those’ days, a day when I have spent a good deal of the day reflecting on my family life. By “family life” I am referring to my first family, the one I was born into.
There were six of us originally – Dad and Mum, my three big sisters and me. Half of them are no longer with us, but half of us are still here! And the three of us remaining sisters still share the laughter, still share the memories of the good ole days and are still there for each other, through the good times and the bad.
The sister who isn’t with us any longer would have celebrated a mile-stone birthday today. She’s been gone for over four years and sure, I miss her. Some days I feel downright angry with her, for bailing out on life and leaving the three of us!
But when I think about my biggest sister, the things I remember the most are the good times, days when we were happy together, when we shared the laughter, when we laughed so hard we cried! (It’s a family trait, you know, this crying laughing!)
I remember her when she was full of life, and joking, finding the funny side to every situation, no matter how serious it may have seemed. What I don’t want to focus on is the memory of my sister being a dead person, when her days of life meant so much to all of us!
Did I say before that my eldest sister was no longer with us? That must have been a Freudian slip! Of course she is still with us, just as our Mum and Dad are, still sharing the tears of laughter with us, still guiding us through life, still loving us.
First Family Bonds don’t break that easily, not in my family, anyway!
And the love and laughter that we have shared, and are still to share, has our cups filled to overflowing. 🙂
Speaking from my own point of view, (as I can have no other!) to have a sister is to feel an indescribable bond with another person, which I can liken to no other relationship I have ever had throughout my life.
My parents kindly provided three sisters for me, before I was even born. There is an age difference between us of a number of years, though, and my sisters often doubled as “mothers” to me. A double blessing!
All three of my sisters were born in England, during and just after the Second World War. My Mum told me a story once of a day when Gypsy’s came to her door, selling clothes pegs. She didn’t recall whether or not she had purchased any pegs; what she remembered vividly was the predictions one of them made for her life.
The Gypsy told my Mum that she would travel across water to live in another country, far from England, where she would give birth to a fourth daughter.
At the time, Mum laughed in disbelief at the Gypsy, although a few years later they all emigrated to Australia and some years after that, I was born.
So, there you have it. Gypsy’s can be very accurate with their predictions!
It doesn’t matter how much time may pass during which my sisters and I have no contact. Sometimes life just gets in the way and we can go months without speaking, but when we do speak, we carry on as if we only had a conversation yesterday; such is our bond.
My eldest sister was named Annette and I could best describe her as my sometimes sister, sometimes mother and always a friend.
The last time I saw Anne, just over four years ago, I knew it would be the last. Anne was extremely ill. When we said our goodbye’s, I wanted to hold her forever and never let her go. When she finally left, I cried so much and so hard that I thought I may stop breathing.
How do you say goodbye to your sister? I found out the hard way, that day.
Since she’s been gone I’ve looked for signs that Anne is about, wishing she would contact me in any way she could find to get through to me. I’ve asked my youngest sister (she’s only twelve years older than me!) if she has heard from her, but neither of us had.
Until Christmas Day, 2010, and I wasn’t even thinking about Anne at the time.
For Christmas my sister had sent me a book, “An Angel by my Side”, by Jacky Newcomb. The book was sealed up in a cellophane wrapper and I hadn’t had a chance to open the pages at all.
I decided to watch a DVD on Christmas night, but for no apparent reason the DVD player wouldn’t work. My husband thought he could easily fix the player, yet it took some time to repair.
I began to wonder if there was something else that I was meant to be doing, as I waited impatiently for the DVD player to work. I noticed the book my sister had sent me, broke off the cellophane wrapper and flicked through the pages.
Nothing in particular caught my eye, so I had a look through the contents, to get a “feel” for the book. And there it was, Chapter 12, “Love from Anne”!
Almost immediately, the DVD player started working.
The next day, I could hardly wait to phone my sister who had sent me the book.
“Did you see what one of the chapters was called?” I blurted out.
You see, Anne always signed letters and cards at the end with “Love from Anne”, which my sister also knew.
We both believe that it was Anne’s way of wishing us both a Happy Christmas. A book sent from one sister to another, with that chapter name. Our Christmas Day was complete.
Today, if Anne was still here with us, in the flesh, she would be celebrating her 70th Birthday and I would send her a birthday card, saying “Love from Joanne”.
Mother Nature has been extremely kind to my garden this summer.
By February, the red chilies, in their red container, are usually withered and dried out by the extreme heat, but not this year. Milder temperatures have kept them looking good enough to eat (almost!)
Red Foliage
As I wandered mindlessly around the garden today (my favourite way to wander!) with camera in hand, red foliage jumped out at me from everywhere. I hadn’t realised before just how many red plants I have.
Red Strawberry Flowers
I even found a tiny red strawberry flower, hiding in among the foliage.
Red Flowers
Our recent deluge of rain has been a blessing to the plants, bringing out flowers by the dozens. It has been worth being almost flood-bound for two weeks, just to see the beauty the rain has helped to create.
With the humidity at only sixty-six percent today (according to Google Weather) the heat of the thirty-degree temperature of the day wasn’t too bad at all. I don’t mind hot days, minus the humidity.
Red Dianthus
Dianthus are an incredibly easy plant to grow. Even during times of neglect and extreme heat, they stay strong and constantly reward me with beautiful little flowers for most of the year.
Well, it WAS red!
Today I ventured right down the back of our property, almost as far as the back fence, looking out for Eastern Brown Snakes, which are one of the deadliest snakes in the world, and yes, we have had them in our yard! I even walked close to the old shed, as the colour red yet again caught my eye…well, this old ride-on mower used to be red. Now though, it’s seen better days.
Mower fuel, kept in a red container
Even the red container holding the mower fuel jumped out at me today. As I general rule, I don’t even notice it in the shed!
Red Centred Hibiscus
Inside the pool area we have a row of hibiscus, each plant with a different coloured flower. Last year, I was rather later than I should have been with pruning the hibiscus, although Mother Nature has also been late with providing summer heat. I really don’t think the hibiscus have been too perturbed by mine and Mother Nature’s bad timing. They are now out in flower and this beauty has two different shades of red at her centre.
Red-dy for a Cool Drink
Beads of sweat ran down the centre of my back during my mindless-garden-wander, but I enjoyed my time outside, in the heat of the middle of the day. What is the saying?…“Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun”. Well, my background is English!
Black Beauty
And my wise and perfectly sane dog stayed indoors. 🙂
Footnote, added 10.10 pm ~ The “red-heat” of the day was even more intense than I had realised. The temperature today reached thirty-seven degrees celsius (or 98.6 degrees fahrenheit). And it’s still hot, hot, hot!
“In the morning, everything is new.
The day’s blank slate lies before me,
ready for my writing.
May it be words of beauty I write.
May it be deeds of grace I do.
May it be thoughts of joy I think….
As I go through the day,
keep my eyes open wide.
May I not miss beauty.
May I not miss joy.
May I not miss wonder.
Keep me awake and aware of the world.
It is my privilege to perform my morning prayers.
It is my honor to do what should be done.
As I rise with the morning, fog lifting slowly for my mind,
I pray not to forget these truths”. ~ Ceisiwr Serith
Usually at this time of year the heat of the day is so intense that working, or any chore carried out, even one as simple as walking to the kitchen for a glass of water can be a major task. Beads of sweat drip down the centre of our backs, forming into tiny streams of water which feel for all the world as if a spider is running along our skin.
Night time brings hardly any relief to the heat of the day. Temperatures may drop by a few degrees, but the humidity remains. Sleeping becomes a problem. Our diet usually consists of meat cooked outdoors on the bar-b-que and dishes of tossed salad. And water. Glass after glass of precious, hydrating liquid.
Psychological relief from the rising temperatures can usually be found by imagining time spent in the snow of the northern hemisphere as I lap up image after image of snow-covered roads, trees and buildings. It helps, temporarily.
This summer has been a different story though. Snow photos from friends and family in the northern reaches of the world are few. Feelings of spiders running down my back are even fewer.
Usually, as the days begin to cool by late March or early April, pockets of mist can settle into the valley below us, forming oceans of mist. These “oceans” can appear at any time throughout the cooler weather, depending on how far the temperatures rise during the day.
This year, here it is, early February, and the misty mornings have already begun. What a delight to behold! The misty mornings are eerie, quiet and magical. And good for the soul.
7.30 am
“When in the fresh mornings I go into my garden before anyone is awake, I go for the time being into perfect happiness.”~ Cecilia Thaxter
In My World 