and Google+ is a bucket of guts.
I managed to resign from it so that people can comment here, and now I cannot comment on my own blog.
That was the dealbreaker.
I've had it.
Thank you for your comments dear El Chi and Andrew Highriser and Barry who has discovered ice, and Helen whose blog link I cannot find despite clomping all over dopey horrible Google+ which has rooned everything and I am going back into my cave.
Ooh look over there - Pants has a new post.
She is always worth the clickthrough, see youse there ...
29 May 2017
I live where I live because I want nothing and that is what there is the most of here.
The sky is a constant, and here is yesterday's view from my kitchen window.
Big fat cumulo-nimbus clouds full of precipitation [they looked better than my snaps show them] so there's a lot of rain in the gauge and the 26,000-litre watertank is overflowing.
Last weekend I drove the 700 kilometre return trip to Melbourne's urban traffic nightmare, surviving the Burnley tunnel, and the M3 after some years in a mere dot on the map.
I criss-crossed the entire 150-kilometre wide sprawl that Melbourne is now, going through Eltham, Port Melbourne, Balwyn, and Brighton [the supermarket had chinese-language newspapers and my old friend now has double security doors on her jewellery store] and
I was very glad to be back here in NothingButSkyville afterward.
17 April 2017
In a map dot with a Dad's Army CFA, any 'controlled burn' needs constant monitoring lest it become one of many out-of-control controlled burns.
Easter 2017 image from my back door.
Next day down the road to friend's vineyard for picking grapesLeaning on the stalk separator after harvest, even the dogs needed rest.
then five rested dogs played dog football for hours
and several humans had an intense pool comp.
Thanks for swinging by, here's my Easter toast to you all:
from the brat of the vat, way way out west so you don't have to be.
26 January 2017
My second thought was to get Jack Kelpie off the back doorstep and tied away safely. I owed him that as he saved me from opening the back door and standing right on Monty Python who would have swiftly leapt up at me.
Jack always jumps around and trips me up, and that is the reason I went to the front door after some long hours doing yardwork. My property is for sale and keeping 1.5 acres mowed and neat is a full time job for one who moves arthritically slow.
Foolish but necessary to disperse Monty, I propped the screendoor open to aid his egress. He eyed me sinuously. Then I grabbed a long-handled shovel and went back through front door to encourage him to more suitable environs. He did not want to go either. Under the house now, or further I hope. It was olive green with a pale chest and could have been an Olive Python, or a tiger snake in disguise.
Then I discovered he had crapped on the rug in the living room. I suppose owners of pet reptiles have that all the time.
My pet is Lily goat, who is endlessly funny, so here she is -