Category: About Writing

Flowers

This excellent gerbera… in the wilderness that was the original village here.

When I take a photo from my balcony there is always first the roof over the BBQ area that I aim to miss, then the old olive green grey roofs of the single storey cottages that made up the old village, Carinya.

While only a few people still live there and itis generally a ghost town, the name is still often used, and a number of activities are run in Carinya’s community complex.

I haven’t explored over there yet although the Librarian at Parkland (the new community complex) said to me that if I liked old books, there are hundreds at Carinya. Kind of a red rag to an old reader, if you know what I mean.

Communications

This book, that I tripped over this morning in my longtime search for independent blogs, hooked my attention with its appendices.

Books On Books Collection – Timothy Donaldson

Since my fictions range over many cultural groups and therefore different languages, and I have the main characters moving from group to group, I’m always looking for ways to write language learning …

This is the taster, as I’m on my mobile. Later, when I move onto my laptop with its bigger screen and I can see what I’m doing, I’ll write the expansion if the original idea allows itself to be expanded.

Sometimes I have two or three posts on the go being drafted due to needing more info. Like, for instance, the expansion on the mysterious stone that needs me to dig around in geological areas.

The word ‘expansion’ is really starting to bother me, it needs rephrasing. Never mind, I have a thesaurus on my laptop.

This blog seems to be the best medium to record my ideas as they arise, as I usually allow myself an hour or so of screentime on my mobile first thing in the morning. While I have my breakfast, imbibe my coffee and drink a liter of salted water.

My First …

My first butterfly at this place. The possibility of continuing to enjoy vists of butterflies is one of the reasons I wanted to live on the second floor, not the tenth.

I think an orchard butterfly, but not sure, investigating my bolly gum. I don’t have the Latin binomial at the end of my fingertips so will add in later.

In the foreground the butterfly rising from the plants, leaving disappointed, no doubt, not yet having found the citrus only a little distance toward the back of the plant array.

In the background a vast herd of Cumulus mediocris. Yes, that is what they are called. Thes are clouds of the lower altitudes, 2000 to 3000 feet above sealevel.

Cumulus mediocris appear as wide as they are tall, have proturbances and sproutings on top and do not usually cause rain, though can develop into angry and towering Cumulus congestus thunderclouds.

Lego: Bosley’s Builders 13

13. Plans & Plants

Trish harvested lavender cabbages from her vegetable patch beside where Tim built a mysterious something. “I’d like to get on with planting the garage and bunkhouse walls,” she said. “And I’m pretty sure Nin Wizard would like to get going with his garden.”

“So what’s stopping you?” Tim said. He hammered a couple of steely runners on the underside of the thing he was working on. Whatever it was.

“I have no plants other than these and I’m not sacrificing them,” she said, gesturing over the vegetable garden on pallets that they’d planned to serve as their roof.

“And you shouldn’t have to,” Tim said. “We all enjoy the vegetables you grow.” 

“How long till we can move into our real place?” Trish grumbled. “And what is that thing?”

“It’s tricky. Canteen needs to be on the ground floor. Our cabin on that. I’m waiting for Bosley’s say-so to get going on the first.”

“Something I can do?” Trish said.

“Yeah. Take this sled for a run.”

“Sled? What for?”

“Hear Dan mention his cousin is coming back over today with a load of plants despite Ms Sander telling him they’re nowhere near ready for plants.”

“Oh, yeeesss!” Trish jumped for joy. She laughed nastily and made like she was Ms Sander. “Oh no, what’ll we do with these plants? We’re not ready. Take them away.”

She hugged Tim round his head and smacked a kiss on his face. “I’m gone.” She picked up the sled handles and danced away, pulling the empty sled behind.

She could smell the heavenly scent of flowers when she wasn’t even halfway over the ‘brudge’1— what they had christened the dam and sluice structure across the gap between their swamp and the deep channel. The word was a mix between bridge and trudge they all agreed on.

She parked the sled beside Gaz’s boat, hampering anyone else from approaching the cargo by design, and joined the altercation on the Hardware Store’s fore-deck.

As expected, Ms Sander was in full flight about Gaz’s stupidity thinking that she—Ms Sander—would take the plants when she had nowhere to put them. “As you can see, young man,” she gestured at the place reserved for the plant shop. “My builders are slow and they are never short of an excuse.”

Even Ms Bee rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take them,” Trish said. “Though I can’t pay, of course.”

“She’ll be doing you a favor,” Dan said at Gaz’s open mouth.

“Hang on, Cuz!” Gaz said, spluttering. “I need to eat!”

“We’ll pay you in-kind,” Dan said. “The minute we get the canteen up and running, you’ll eat at ours for free to the value of a boat-load of plants.”

“Have a chat with Drew,” Trish said. “He’ll work you a good deal.”

“You’re not taking our first customer, are you?” Bee said, half-joking. “Tradies always stay for a cuppa and sausage roll?”

“Never mind, Bee,” Ms Sander said. “Our real customers will have class.”

Even Trish rolled her eyes that time.

Dan helped Trish get the sled up and over the sluice. They discussed getting the rest of plants now or later. Trish said now. Dan said, have we got anywhere to put them?

“Let’s just get Gaz’s boat and tie it next to the garage,” Trish said. “Have you got somewhere he can stay overnight?” she said innocently. It wasn’t anywhere near even lunchtime.

“He won’t,” Dan predicted. “We’ll get all the plants out before he goes.”

Trish grinned.

  1. The word “brudge” and maybe concept too, comes from “The Trokeville Way” by Russell Hoban (1996) A truly mysterious read that after 28 years has not yet give up all its secrets. Read the book and let me know what you think it says?

Lego: Bosley’s Builders 12

12. Where’s My Workforce?

First person in Bosley’s face today was Dan, telling him he had a date. Huh? What was that about? Boz shifted materials around, clattering and clacking bricks together for over half an hour and no one else showed up?

Counting Wizard Nin, but not the two hardware store reps, there are six of us on site, he thought. Where are they all? He started to feel abandoned, and cranky. It’d be good if Dan was around to take his truck out of my face?

Speak of the devil, is that him I’m hearing joking and laughing? Boz looked up. Huh? It is. Who is he with? He put a couple of fingers in his mouth and blew a blast of air past them. Phee-eee-eew!

Dan had the grace to look up from his conversation with the man in a boat. But then he just waved? He didn’t look like he was coming.

First person arriving was Trish. “Hey Boss? What’s up?”

“I wondered where everybody is?” Bosley said.

Trish looked around. “Guess we’re all doing our own thing. Since it’s Sunday?”

“Hmph,” Bosley said. “Guess I forgot.”

Trish laughed. “When we all worked for the other fella, you insisted Sundays were for ourselves. What’s changed?”

Bosley laid another row of bricks. He so didn’t want to get into an argument. The more they all worked, the sooner they’d all have their own places. And he was totally sick of standing room only in his hut apart for the bunk.

Trish watched him. “Why don’t you take a break and come and check out the vegetable garden I’ve got going?”

“Might as well, I guess. Need Dan to move his truck and he’s busy.” Bosley indicated Dan and the man in the boat.

“His cousin,” Trish said. “They’re just catching up. What do you think? Can your shadoof-thingie haul this up to our cabin roof when we get that up?”

“Might need to go up in parts,” Bosley said. “I’ll let you know after we’ve built the bunkhouse.” He left Trish hoeing weeds, went back to his garage build.

Next, Nin Wizard came leaping and gesticulating over the walls. What is he trying to tell me? Bosley thought. Probably need Tim to interpret.

But, no. Nin beckoned him. Bosley followed Nin out to the back where a pile of driftwood and wrack lay foundered at the edge of the shore. Tim was out there too … very conveniently … with a hammer and jemmy bar tidying the various bits and pieces.

“This’ll be Nin’s cabin,” Tim said. “Got any ideas where to put it?”

“On the bunkhouse?” Boz said.

Tim looked where Bosley looked. “On the as yet unbuilt bunkhouse?”

 “On the as yet unbuilt bunkhouse on the garage in progress,” Bosley expanded.

“Why not on my place, when I get that built?” Tim said.

“And where will you have Trish’s vege garden that she just showed me?”

Nin leapt over them both, one at the time. Boing. Boing. Then he leapt to the highest point of the garage-build. Waved his wand.

Tim laughed. “Ha. Well. He’s decided. Guess he’ll help you. I warn you though, his magic is tied to his energy, which is patchy.”