for some reason, to me this pansy looks surprised ... but then pansies often do
our garden is in the mood for spring
garden ornament Owl stuck in the middle
echium - a whole forest of them has sprung up at the back of our garden, I am hoping it will attract many honey bees, they seem to love these tall plants.
It is Labour Weekend here in New Zealand, which means a Public Holiday on Monday.
Eighteen years ago today, we moved into this house.
Forty-five years ago today, my father died.
For eighteen years the 27th October is a day for me of both sun and shade. Today our mid-spring weather has reflected that mood.
Our house needs a lot doing to it inside; it has its tired areas.
A friend said to me once, "Your house is like an eryie". That is often how it feels: an eyrie- a lookout - a nest - a safe place above the street. A home for eagles. (Not that Robert and I consider ourselves birds of prey.).
This house may not get the harbour view, but as it looks out on to many trees, one could be forgiven for saying that we get an 'arbour view'.
Labour Weekend is traditionally a time for doing the garden - putting in potatoes and tomatoes.
This year all we are are planting are runner beans and beetroot.
That pushing a dry seed into dirt actually does have an effect, never fails to astonish me.
There have been times when I have sensed my father around; when his trademark grin is almost a presence in the room.
That this house has had other owners - people we've never met and don't know anything about - sometimes weirds me out. Did they love the house as much as we do? Or are we its real owners? LIke its REAL owners? Have we loved it the best?
This house is about as old as me. It was built when I was a baby. It was my birth day present for the future.
Spring has us in its fist of insistent exuberance. We spent today pruning and lopping and there is more yet to do tomorrow.
Dad would be in his ninety-third year, if he was still alive.