Discover Challenge: The Poetry of List Making

Hibiscus 18.08 (1)
The idea of your list is like a bud, the promise of a flower that will unfold and fulfil you with your desires.

Give it nourishment, ideas, design it with care.
Do not forget to begin with a capital letter to show its importance.
Use some descriptions
There is no point in just writing meat, but perhaps neck of pork, beef loin or chicken breast; use your imagination. Perhaps you want to embellish it with some vegetable. Add cabbage, carrots, leek and even tomatoes, this is a composition of taste.
But perhaps it is something more important than food, more important than food?

Deposit, withdrawal, pay your debt – it is all to do with the financial situation. Your list is becoming a source of necessity, survival. Write the details of how much you owe to those that sent the demand for payment. Tick off everything on your list, be sure nothing is forgotton, this is a matter of holding up your head high and being honest.
Remember the appointment with the doctor, the therapist, the hairdresser, and the gardener. Above all do not forget your computer, it is waiting.

The fulfilment of meeting the requirements of the weekly, daily, hourly challenges. Hourly? not yet, but be prepared, your list must include everything.

And do not forget Aunt Mabel’s birthday, Uncle Sam and Aunt Mildred’s wedding anniversary – did you organise to buy the cards to be sent.
Great Uncle Montgomery died last week, it was expected. Did you send your condolences, have you remembered when the funeral will be. Never forget a funeral, one day it might be yours, and if you do not arrive at your own funeral, well that would really be a catastrophe.

Put everything on your list. But a list is not a list if you do not read it, or forget it. Add to your list: make it sing, make it sound, make it vibrate.
On your mobile telephone with a marked sound, adding vibrations and put the mobile telephone in your pocket. You will have no regrets.

Lists are a part of your life, part of your anatomy, an extension of your brain power and then they will bear a flower.

Hibiscus 19.08 (3)

Beware, everything has restrictions. They will wilt and die if they are ignored and forgotten. They need nurtering, fertiliser and care. Always have your list with you, otherwise this will be the result.

Hibiscus 19.08 (1)

Discover Challenge: The Poetry of List Making

Flower of the Day: 20.08.2016 Canna

Canna 19.08 (3)

And my second pot of Canna has decided to form a flower. I always had canna. I had the large flowering variety, one in red and one in red-yellow mixture, but they left for the happy canna hunting grounds a few years ago. I deicided to replace them with something completely different and got a small flowering variety. They are not very free flowering, but I usually have a couple of flower heads annually. This year it took a long while. One pot finished flowering a week ago, only one flower head. I do not know if it will produce a second flower stalk. Now the other pot has a flower stalk, so I captured this on the camera. I was particularly happy as I could apply my new macro lens. It took a couple of photos, that eventually I reached the result I wanted. Today it rained and so I do not know how long this flower will last, but that is not important. Important is that it produced a flower.

Flower of the Day: 20.08.2016 Canna

Daily Prompt: The Youth of days gone by

Aunt Ada  me  Dad  Kit  Steve and Pauline

Youth was in black and white, not colour. Today it is perhaps grey, although we can now disguise its colours with apps on the computer. Getting old and looking the part was for mums and dads, aunts and uncles and grandparents. Here I am on the left of dad with my three cousins and aunt on the left on holiday together. Those were the days. I once asked Mr. Swiss where have they gone. Why did we not realise that one day we would also become old. The last time I saw my twin cousins at the back of the photo, was at my father’s funeral earlier this year. We now all have grey hair, what remains. I walk with a cane and also one of my cousins, although only temporary as he had broken his leg. Their mother left us last year, three weeks before her 100th birthday. She was my mother’s schoolfriend, before marrying her brother. Oh, where have these days gone?

The grandfather that was the patriach of the family: surrounded by his children, in-laws and grandchldren at a family gathering, sitting in a chair in the corner. He was just there, puffing on his cigarette with a glass of beer in his hand and now and again making a movement to the loo. They everyone separated to give him a clear path, and with his son on one arm and son-in-law on the other he would allow himself to be led

“All right pop?” he was asked on his way.

“Yea, yea” was a mumbled answer and supported by the family he found the way. He soon finished and was on the return path, again supported by his helpers. You respected your elders, although grandad was different to us. He was old, no longer stable on his legs and did not really say a lot. Who knows? One day you will be older, your youth long gone. The perfidious part being, that you do not think of these things. But was grandad happy, satisfied, did he realise that one day he would become old an no longer make a normal journey to the toilet without this fuss and bother?

You go to school to learn the basics. Suddenly you are a teenager, doing what teenagers do. You are perhaps hunting for a partner, it lays in the natural cycle of life. Perhaps a dedicated follower of fashion, wearing the latest trends, no matter how stupid they are: after all everyone else is doing it, so why not join in. The memories of hopping on the platform of a London bus wearing a skirt so tight you could only do it by lifting one leg after the other in an acrobatic style. Who cares who is looking, it was fashion. This effort coupled with high heels, stiletto version, did not make things easier, but you were young.  And do not forget the make-up, you wore lipstick, coupled with eye liner and shadow. Try that today. I could not paint a straight line above my eye lid, and it would look stupid in any case. I do not even have a lipstick. Yes I do, but cannot remember where it is and have not used it for a few years. Have you ever looked at the old photos and wondered how you could find something like that to be attractive?

I said to Mr. Swiss a couple of days ago, who would have thought that growing old would be like this. Not being able to leave a chair without thinking about it first of all, and  planning how to do it. The day begins and the first conversation is how do you feel. You feel you have slowed down over the years, that things are not how they used to be. Perhaps we could take a walk this afternoon. Not sure, perhaps, must see if I feel like it. This is no longer youth, this is what growing old is.  In England the bus has reserved seats for the elderly and disabled. I always intentionally avoided them to make room for the elderly. Today the seat is for me, becaue I am the elderly.  In youth I would stand in a crowded bus or train, no problem. Now the time has arrived where I am happy to be able to find an empty seat, which is usually offered by a younger person.

Youth, where ar thou? Why have you deserted me?

Daily Prompt: The Youth of Days Gone By

Good Morning

Hope you all slept well. I did, too well actually. I had a little problem falling asleep, but eventually fell into a coma and was awakened by the alarm this morning. I know I do not need an alarm, I am a golden oldie and we had a ceremonial burning of alarm clocks when we reached retirement age, but a little organisation must be. You cannot stay in bed until lunchtime, it would be a waste. There are things to do like visiting other blogs, answering comments on your own blog and even writing a blog.

You mean things to do like houswork? Yes, that as well, but that is only a side dish, the main meal is doing what you want to do.


One of the reasons for my undisturbed quiet sleep is this contraption above. It has saved many a night that could resemble a battlefield, with dive bombers buzzing over your head winging their way to a nice juicy supply of blood. You fill it with some sort of anti mosquito liquid and plug it into the electricity. I do not know how it functions, but it ensures a mosquito free night, as they avoid the smell and perhaps even the secret signals it sends, which cannot be heard by the human ear. We have the safe mosquitos in Switzerland, but living near the River, it does not get better. It is better than the continuous buzz buzz of a mosquito rubbing its back legs, or whatever it does to make this monotonous tone. Mummy lays her eggs in the river. They thrive and hatch and go for a little swim. The problem begins is when they discover they have wings and decide to leave the river and start a family. I mean all creatures are entitled to reproducing themselves, it is the way of nature. There are, however, some insects that are programmed to develop their future using warmblooded other creatures as a help on the way.

Who does not know the soft buzzing sound of one of these mini winged vampires during the night whilst you want to sleep. They are on the search for fresh blood. They hover during the day on the ceiling or might be outside your bedroom window waiting for their cue. As soon as night falls and we switch on a few lights, they enter and are ready to pounce. They know humans sleep at night, they know they have so much blood flowing through their arteries, that there is something to spare. And so they wait and eventually go on a discovery trip to your body. I am sure some of us have seen them sitting on an arm and happily fillng their reproductive organs, or whatever, with a fresh warm supply of blood to help the babies develop into nice strong mosquitos, who will also be searching for fresh blood when they grow into big mosquitos.

The problem is when you want to sleep and drift away into the land of dreams or whatever. it is then they embark on a buzzy flight. You can hear them coming and most annoying is when they wing their way near the ear. Then, suddenly there is silence, they have gone – no way, they are sitting on your arm or whatever piece of flesh might be available, sinking the blood suction device into the skin and are in 7th heaven, on a trip, this is better than LSD for a mosquito. Suddenly there is an irritation, you swipe it with your hand and …. yes you hear it buzzing again. Its feeding has been disturbed, it has escaped, but mummy mosquito has no big problem, there is plenty of skin left.

Eventually you drift off to a troubled sleep, dreaming of vampires and blood banks only to be awakened in the morning by an irritation and a growing red point on the mosquito targetted area of your skin. This grows to a large red point, a red bump, but no problem. Mummy’s eggs are nicely developing due to your unvolutary blood donation, and eventually the bump disappears to a mere memory of a disurbed August-September night amongst the pregnant mummy mosquitos. Let us just think of it as nature taking its course. I mean there must be a purpose for everything in the world. My dad even had malaria during his service at the end of the war in Italy, but they probably had the mega mosquitos, the professionals. Luckily in Switzerland we only seem to get the apprentices.

Time to go, I have wasted enough time on the computer. Just a few sips of my tea, remove the breakfast stains from the table and I am off. Am cooking a good old basic meal of boiled bacon, Swiss sausage accomanied by cooked red cabbage and potato today, so will prep the cabbage and let it cook with some added red wine until lunchtime. In between I will fill in the time with a little cleaning session, interrupted by taking a few photos. After all I am a golden oldie and do what I want to do (mostly) and not what I have to do (unfortunately).