My hibiscus in garden in August. Now only the seed pods remain.
My hibiscus in garden in August. Now only the seed pods remain.
It’s hot work in Summer doing road repairs.
I found a lion. He lives in England in a house. Otherwise lions do not live in the Swiss countryside, but tend to live in the zoo.
Of course there is my cat that sometimes remembers the days when she was a lion and practices now and again.
My two sons did not grow up in a world full of computers, pads or mobile phones. Their toys were something to touch. Lego was a great favourite. At the beginning it was just coloured bricks that fitted together until the special bricks arrived: they were the ones where you could build your own garage, perhaps even the Tower Bridge of London. There were even “duplo” bricks, twice the size, but ideal for the hands of a toddler.
I remember No. 1 son constructing the bridge, even with the part where you could raise it to let the big ships go through. Being an autist he had a gift for anything that had to fit together. He is still the person that is a big help if you buy flat pack furniture: whilst we are searching for the screws and trying to understand the detailed plan, he has already built half of the furniture.
And so Tower Bridge was in the bedroom on a shelf for many years, until he was finished with school and the seriocity of a working day arrived. No. 2 son also had his talents with lego, but he was more into the Playmobil family.
They were little miniature people all dressed to fit the part. they had their own houses and attachments. Of course both sons played with everything, it was their growing up world, living in mini situations.
Eventually these toys were discarded, they were no longer needed. The school books and the computers replaced them as well as the music disks. My evenings of clearing away the various models were finished. I no longer inadvertently trod on a painful piece of lego and did not have to search for the sherrif hat or the tools that the men used in their playmobil towns.
The model railway pieces were also packed into a plastic bag and the floor space was at last clear to walk over. Everything was put into the cellar and there is stayed for at least 30 years, even a little bit more. I kept every brick, every railway line and every Wild West Fort. My oldest son is today more into music and visiting rock concerts. No. 2 son is married and has grandson No. 1.
He was surprised when I told him I still had all his toys in working order. He thought I had disposed of them many years ago. There was a small problem that they were all packed in a box on the top shelf in the cellar, but Mr. Swisss, with the help of No. 1 son, has now managed to transfer them and they are now ready to go.
This week No. 2 son’s family will be here for a day and this afternoon there was an excursion to the cellar and the toys are now ready for transport to the next station in their life. I hope that they no longer feel so neglected when one day my grandson No. 1 will be able to annoy his parents with all the bits and pieces laying around. Perhaps they might even have the Tower Bridge in a room somewhere, or perhaps a sherrif’s office in the kitchen.
Waking up on a Sunday morning to find grey skies and rain, makes me feel like my two canna plants in their pots. They are the last remaining memory of a summer that was a little lost in building work, debris and a scaffolding. I usually have them on the sunny side of the apartment, but this year there was no real sunny side, although it poked through now and again between the iron bars. However, it is now time for them to dry out so that I can deposit them in the nice cool cellar for the winter hibernation. My No. 1 son shifted them for me to the other side of the apartment where they are now protected from the rain showers under the porch roof. I will leave them another week to dry out and then they can be transported to winter quarters. It’s a miracle that they survived the summer. This side of the apartment has not yet been completed by the gardeners to restore it to normal, but they told me next week.
My bird photos at the birdhouse this morning are a little to dark and dismal to show anything worth showing, but I at last managed to capture my magpies yesterday morning. This one had its beak stuffed full of bread pieces and was taking a rest in the tree opposite before flying back home for breakfast. It is always the crows and magpies that arrive first of all when I distribute the bread remainders, stuffing their beaks full of the goodies of the day. Afterwards the sparrows arrive for the crumbs.
What I like about the magpies are their colourful constrasting feathers.
It looks like a very wet day today. Not raining in big drops, but the fine soaking rain that dampens the feelings. Mr. Swiss tells me it should be better by the evening, but it can only get better.
This is another one of yesterday’s photos. I was sitting at the table in the kitchen and saw this little great tit land on my cat’s water bowl. It is almost like a waterimg hole in the jungle in my garden sometimes.
I have finished my Day of the Triffids book by John Wyndham and must say even the older books are really good. What to do when triffids begin to grow in your garden, take up their roots and walk – it is a problem expecially when the majority of the population of the earth have been struck blind. What I like about the story is that Wyndham does not say it was this or that, but gives little hints to guide you on the way. Was it the Russians that developed the triffids for cheap oils, was it a comet that brought about the blindness or a malicious satellite that went wrong when circling the earth. You can work it out yourself. Just do not trust plants hiding in the hedge that might swipe you with their poisonous sting. Perhaps check at the local store for triffid weapons just in case.
And on this happy note I will leave you, also with a red sky from late yesterday afternoon which did brighten up the day a little. Take it easy, and do not stress, it is the week-end, time to party, or read a good book. Enjoy the day.
Je gratte, donc je suis
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