Washed …

With water, vinegar and more water, the mystery stone is starting to give up its secrets.

When I washed it with vinegar the outer sandy-looking layer immediately began to melt. So that’s a limestone layer, I assume.

There appears to be a hole or cracked area in the center and a weird straight sliver in the upper left. That doesnt feel stony. Wonder if it could possibly be petrified wood?

Side view

This is a side shot. Another or same insertion … a sliver of something. Although, that area is also reminiscent of the bunch of leaf-thin layers.

And then that black circle … is it animal, vegetable or mineral? It looks like lichen. Too bad I don’t have a microscope. I wonder what mineral could make that yellow. Doesn’t look like sulfur. [I learnt ‘sulphur’ for that word.]

Getting more and more interesting.

The inside has to dry before I can get a good image.

Mystery Rock …

This rock, which is about the size of a large orange and weighs about a kilo, (2.2 pounds) was collected for me while the family were out looking for ‘thunder eggs’. A common activity in Northern NSW and southern Queensland.

While this one hasn’t got the simple perfection of the much covetted ‘real’ thunder eggs, I like it because it is so complex inside the nodule.

In places there look to be more than a dozen layers. Thicker and also leaf-thin. There are a couple of crystals according to the errant glitter, and areas that look like spongy bone marrow.

The outside appears to be covered with a layer of fossilised clay. There does look to be some soil encrusted in the inside but I could be wrong. I will wash it and see.

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.”

Night Sky

Surprised myself, taking this shot, and look at the festive lights.

The dark had a few bands of dark grey and I wondered how they’d show up.

Who knew that all that cloud-life, invisible to human eyes, despite them being augmented with new lenses, could be shown by a hand-sized piece of technology?

Its eyes immediately changed the program it usually follows and went into slow motion. Gathering light to itself and noting wavelengths, it transcribed them into colors and festive textures. All before the end of the few seconds it took to record the scene. Magic!

The Other Walk

When I was out the other day, after I had sat down in the civilized new-ness of the one year old addition to the village and found it too structured for my mood, I walked into the old section.

This village started in the the 1980s with a field of little villas surrounding a community facility. About half the villas remain along with the old communal areas.

So I crossed the vacant block along the concrete path. Weed central but with more flowers than the sculptural resort style gardens in the newer sections …

There’s even a lone fungal fruiting body. Further on, as I come into the streets, the vacancies and their bewildered gardens become obvious. (A pun there)

Can barely see the villas for the overgrown gardens. A riot of flowers though. More varieties of hibiscus that I’ve seen in one small area.

There are some beautiful trees and shrubs, five to ten metres tall. I can’t imagine they’ll be kept when the building program continues.

Finally, in a derelict corner I see a clump of fungi. I had been wondering whether these gardens were maintained by the establishment or cultivated by the residents themselves. The fungi speak for the latter.

Three, possibly four species I make that. What do you think, mycophiles?

Lego: Bosley’s Builders

11. The Stand Off

Jed was pretty happy with the floor they’d laid yesterday. At this rate they’d get the walls complete and happy faces when the hardware shop’s reps arrived later. And all it had needed was him jollying everyone else along.

Bosley is back today, he thought. Here’s hoping he thinks having a foreman—yours truly—a good addition to his crew. It’ll set me up. He made his way toward where Boz beckoned him for his site report.

“Hey, Boss,” Jed said. “We’ve made quite a bit of progress as you can see.” He waved at the hardware store’s floor and walls. “I was thinking we could start on the heavy vehicle garage next. Then by the end of the week, lift Jackie’s and my cabin on top of it.”

“I should be having this discussion with you and Ms Sander,” Bosley said.

Uh oh, Boz has quite the long face, Jed had time to think. “I’ve got nothing in common with her,” he said.

“Sez you,” Bosley said. “What do you see around yourself?”

Jed looked round. He didn’t see anything different, he said with a hand gesture and a shrug.

“What does he see beyond himself?” Tim said. He was repairing Wizard Nin’s shack right there where Bosley organized Jed for a chin-wag. Two against one, was that fair?

“What does he see other than himself,” Drew said, stepping into Jed’s face from the other direction.

Would’ve been funny except Jed started to feel like they were ganging up on him.

“Go at it, brother,” Bosley said cryptically.

“It’s a done deal in my mind,” Drew stated. “Jackie owns the crane and she’s given us the go-ahead. Jed owns the truck and he can leave when he wants.”

“You’ll take Jackie’s crane off my truck? No! No way!” Jed cried, suddenly seeing the plot. “What’s a truck by itself?”

“Jed! Cheer up,” Dan said. “You’ll have a ton of options.”

Jed groaned. “Not you too? You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend,” Dan said. “You and me with a truck each? Salvaging. You and the hardware store? Power storage when we get you fitted with a power module and they have a windmill operating in the channel. You and the community? Say we need a performance stage? You and the herders? They need their cabin took to their pylons? No mid-size crane is going to manage that. It’ll need incremental lifting with … “

“No!” Jed said again. “I’m leaving! I knew it would come to this. We should never have come. You’re chasing me away!”

He stomped to his and Jackie’s cabin, and threw his things together. I don’t believe it! I’m back to camping?

The rest of them listened further and heard the truck door slam, and the truck engine tick over. Then Jed drove toward the track out.

“Okay. That’s the crane gone,” Bosley said. “Have we still got that shadoof thing?”

“I’m blank on what you’re talking about,” Tim said.

“That’ll be a ditto for me,” Dan agreed.

“I saw it yesterday,” Drew said. “We’ve got that and the conveyor belt still. We’ll manage.”

“You hear something?” Tim said to Dan.

“Yes. The hardware store’s runabout. Is it both of them?” Dan said.

“It is, but Ms Bee is tying up the boat.”

“I’m gone,” Dan said.

“Ditto,” Tim said. “I’m meeting Trish for a cuppa. You should come along. She said we should start planning the canteen, since this hillock,” he stamped his boot. “Will likely take two slabs. And the canteen will probably take at least two cabins.”

“Cowards,” Drew said. “Don’t plan too far ahead of the stair building. Or the materials for that matter.”

“I bet Trish will want more arches,” Dan said. “Do you recall where you got them?”

“What’s this about me and him?” Ms Sander said, pointing her chin at Jed ploughing across the mudflats. She looked thunderous.

Bosley didn’t wilt. “Both you and Jed have unrealistic expectations,” he said. “Had a look around recently?”

“Like lift your gaze to the world in general,” Drew said helpfully.

“My supply lines are intact,” flashed Ms Sander. “My customer base is growing. My second- floor hasn’t even been begun yet, but we all know the hold-up there!”

“I’ll say it again,” Drew said. “Had a look around recently?” He didn’t let her get a word in. He felt like something in him had snapped during the long lay-up. “Parts are what are missing! Our spreadsheet is like a mosaic of blanks!”

Bosley frowned Ms Sander into silence.

Drew continued. “Supply chains other than apparently yours are fragmented! These floods,” he indicated the swamp now surrounding them, “Are playing havoc with deliveries.”

“Making do with what we have is the name of the new game,” Bosley said at Ms Bee arriving belatedly. “In other words, when I come to do your stairs, you will gracefully accept whatever color scheme I can manage!”

Bee smiled winningly at him. “We will, Bosley,” she said. She arm-in-armed Ms Sander away with her. “Let’s think about our interiors, Sandy. We could book Julie & Juliette. I’m sure they’ll be able to come up with a scheme to complement Bosley’s.”

Drew laughed. “You were supposed to melt just then.”

Bosley flushed. “Yeah, right. Me and everybody else!”

In Between …

I’m sitting in a green chair, different from last time I was here when I was directed to a black chair, in the waiting area of my local Centrelink branch. Gone are the days of queueing … one thing Covid was good for.

I’m here to explain the ‘flow of my finances’ and although I have nothing to hide, Centrelink’s power and layers of bureaucracy and impenetrable behaviour, I’m as nervous as everyone else sitting here waiting for their appointments. Centrelink of course likes to keep us on our toes, we think.

I have with me plastic folder of proofs in two bunches as my printer/scanner has not recovered from the move yet and refuses to shake hands with the computer. First thing this morning had to beg the village’s admin to print stuff off for me, that CL can keep. The other bunch are the paper copies CL will need to copy.

To top off the day, the good news is that my previous unit, where I broke the lease, has new tenants. Meaning, I don’t need to pay any more rent there.

And the bad news is that my hearing aids have spat the dummy. Switched themselves off. I’ve tried everything I know, to get a sign of life, but no go. All verbal communication is like talking and listening through a wad of cotton wool.

I’m outside now, finishing this off. It’s raining. I didn’t bring an umbrella, or raincoat. Probably better wait for my ride.

Guess how high this tree is …

Ti tree at Coorparoo

Back on Track

She has a lot of tracks you’ll be saying, and you’re not wrong. This particular track I’ve been on for only about six years and was off for over six to nine months.

This time last year I had a lot of nightmares, so much so that I thought to get some help figuring out why. First saw a dream analyst for about fourteen weeks. Fatigue reared its ugly head. The trip there and back by public transport once a week proved too wearing. I went to once a fortnight, then quit and looked for something online. (I am lucky to have so many good options.)

Found This Jungian Life podcasts and listened non-stop for a few weeks then signed up for their Dream School, Websites at end of the post. So for six months I painted my dreams and studied how to interpret them. That’s still going. The course is twelve months.

But once you’re taking notice, dreams come thick and fast and I only painted a few. Wrote the rest. The journal these days is a loose leaf folder with pages inserted when and where. And notes, because as you learn more previous dreams also suddenly get meaning.

The community committee organizes classes and groups. I joined a painting group. Two people are working in oils. Two in acrylics. The leader asked me what. I went home and fetched my watercolors gear. Painted a little scene.

Ordinary, compared to what came after, and there a few things I would’ve done different if I’d been more aware of what I was doing, and less concerned about where I was doing it. I’ve never painted in public.

Lol, there’s no planning in this landscape at all. I started at the top with the sky which worked OK. All the rest reminds me of the scenery of an early computer game, Robin Hood I seem to remember, forest in clumps suggesting paths where the merry men disappeared. A slope and a lake? River? Ice? That blotty bit in the middle? Was where I was distracted, painting in public as I said, and my brush hit the paper where it shouldn’t have, and I tried to blot off the marks.

Link to both Dream School and the This Jungian Life podcasts. This Jungian Life

A Blog Post Block …

… will solve my problem on the Art Stories Page. Don’t you just love the tongue-trippery features of this title? I can’t say it fast more than about twice in a row. See how you go?

But. So. Such a block will solve all my problems on the Art Stories Page. A hundred-blogs block will be inserted and away we go.

If only it was that easy. There are a few, maybe ten, aspects to then apply or not depending on how I imagine the Page will look and or work.

A good place to insert one of my favorite sayings … some people call them aphorisms (a pithy observation containing a general truth) … “We’ll see what happens.”

Not very pithy. Maybe not an aphorism. What do you think?

Now … since this is a tech post, I need a tech pic. Let me see. (She rummages around in her albums.)

Snowy on the moon. He’s just lost the sound in his space suit. How will he communicate? Definitely a tech thing.

Cheers all.