Who wants just ordinary clouds. I got a shot of clouds with the Stairway to Heaven.
Who wants just ordinary clouds. I got a shot of clouds with the Stairway to Heaven.
I had my own heron in the garden, such a beautiful bird. We had a new neighbour, Professor Frankenstone. He asked if he could borrow my heron as he also had a bird that wanted a mate. I forgot to ask him what sort of bird. He said unfortunately things did not go as well as they should have, but my heron survived, although he has changed somewhat. My neighbour is no longer here. The last I saw of him was hanging from the claws of a rather large bird in the sky. My heron has now laid a large metallic egg and something is clanking inside.
I visited Solothurn, Switzerland, our local town yesterday morning. It was at least a year since I had the time to look around and take time for photos. I just had to take this guy’s photo, he was definitely an odd ball.
You can work that one out for yourself. We live in a building zone at the moment and when I looked up into the scaffolding last week, I saw two heads looking down. One even had a flame thrower in his hand.
I love benches, I know where each one is to find in my area. They are a walking necessity for my cane and I. I loved the way the sun was playing with this one.
I spotted these pink peonies in a neighbouring garden. It is not so often I seen them in such a vibrant pink.
I once had a lawn. It was not Wimbldon style, but it was a lawn with a surface of grass. We even had an electric mower that would travel once a day on his own and keep the lawn mowed. Any cut grass would fall into the lawn and serve as fertisiliser. It was a nice lawn, a luscious lawn. We loved our lawn and today it has been savaged by the trampling feet of builders clad in boots. There are cigarette remains in the flower beds, between the grass patches. Through the savaging of the trampling building animals in their super heavy boots with carved savaging rubber profiles on the soles of the boots, the lawn had no chance. We tried to rescue it daily with water. Mr. Swiss even manually cut the lawn with a normal mowing machine and it was all to no avail. The lawn now resembles a path where Hannibal and his elefants crossed the alps, just bare earth with a few patches of grass. Now and again a brave daisy pokes his head through, even a dandelion, but they survive everything. Mr, Swiss and I wil not let this pass unanswered, we are planning our revenge. This is the West garden, the one permently in the sun.
And now a move to the east garden. It used to be a pattern of flower beds and wonders of flower growth Now each flower is fighing for survival and only the fittest can win. See the plastic cover, this is a permanent fixture to trap the particles of microsopic foam floating down from above. The hollyhocks and the balloon plants have survived at the front and on the left of the picture. There is a bare piece of earth behind them. This used to be a flower bed with the large hollyhock as the center piece, now only it’s offspring are left at the front. It used to be a place where firebugs, butterflies and other insects would play in the sunlight: now doomed to disappearance, killed by movements of scaffolding and builders ignorance.
Today there is a light wind blowing, not so much.
I was planning on putting my Apple computer, a small light weight computer, onto my desk to write todays’s Daily Prompt. First of all I had to clear the desk from the white assasins of the cladding material. When I am finished here, I will use the Dyson to remove the particles from the floor. Does this find no end? According to the neighbour and Mrs. Swiss and the plans of the builders, architects and other Savages in charge of this destructive work, they will be finished in September, or was it October, perhaps it might be November.
There is a song that runs through it all, a theme tune to what could be: thankyou Talking Heads.
It is summer holiday time. I do not go anywhere, am a stay-at-home
girlie golden oldie, but send the others away (son No. 1) and spend a romantic two weeks with Mr. Swiss, although we lead a romatic life with the exception of a few “misunderstandings” constantly. Yesterday No 1 Son departed for his holiday and I suggested we could go into our local market town of Solothurn. Saturday morning is always market day for fruit and veg and other specialities to eat. It must be at least a year, if not more, that I visited the town on Saturday morning the last time. I/we decided we would combine it with a restaurant meal and there we have the photo to prove it. It was a garden restaurant with Italian food, wonderful weather, so what could be better. Mr. Swiss took the photo in one of those moments when I found life is not so bad after all.
I have memories of my mother-in-law on Saturday market day in Solothurn. She grew up here and lived in Solothurn. Saturday morning was the day when she went to market. She was always well dressed, but on Saturday morning it was the special morning where she “went to market” and had her special dress. She loved it, meeting old colleagues, talking to the stall holders, who she had known for years, and buying some vegetables and salad which were fresh from the local farms. I think she was typical of many Solothurn ladies in this respect.
We took the local train to Solothurn, as parking the car can be get complicated on Saturday morning. Of course I had my camera with me and I ventured to the beginning of the market. Mr. Swiss often goes into town on Saturday morning on his own for a few bits and pieces, so it was nothing special for him, but he let me do my thing.
I was standing on the market taking a photo of a stall selling all sorts of olives and antipasti.
I was engrossed in getting the right angle and heard a voice in my ear. “Carry on Pat with the photo, just wanted to say hello” and I did carry on, recognising the voice belonging to an ex work colleague of mine. She was also at the weekly market with her husband, so Mr. Swiss was no longer so alone whilst I was snapping here and there. That is the nice thing about living in a town where you know most people and the market is one of the best places to meet them and have catch-up conversations. By the way we had lovely sunny weather, a little in the direction of heat wave, but walking through the market tends to make you forget the hot weather and there is always shade somewhere.
There are many vegetable stalls and most advertise organic vegetables. One of the stall holders I know quite well who is about the same age as Mr. Swiss, but still has her farm, told me once that she begins to prepare the vegetables already the evening before, sorting them and making them presentable for the market. This work goes into the early hours of Saturday morning. After a short sleep she loads the van with the market material and assembles it on the market place. Of course the whole family helps, two daughters and a son, to get everything ready for the day’s beginnings on the market at around 8.00 a.m. in the morning.
A large section of the market is devoted to flowers. This photo was taken on the main square in the middle of the town. I must say Mr. Swiss was very patient with me and went where I wanted to go, camera always ready. The pavements were full of tables and chairs outside the various cafés and we arrived outside the local bookshop. It is a bookshop but now have 3 tables outside with a few chairs. No special cream cakes or other delicacies, but you could get a drink inside the bookshop and take it outside. It suits us because there is no waiting for a waitress or to pay. You pay at the cash desk. It is very well organised as an assiatant appears regularly to clear the tables. For two readers like Mr. Swiss and me, the atmosphere is right and you can watch the market visitors passing by.
We wandered a little more and now I let Mr. Swiss take over to lead us to the restaurant where we wanted to eat. Everything was perfect, no rush to get home and cook. We both decided on ravioli with herbs in a wonderful herby buttery sauce with a mixed salad. All good things come to an end and we walked across the River to the station to catch the local train home again. I should really do this more often.
Sunflowers on the market place
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