Filling in the Gaps

Thoughtful Spot in Winter. The gaps are obvious

Thoughtful Spot in Winter. The gaps are obvious

I often sit under the Golden Elm and watch the sun come up. It is my “Thoughtful Spot” as Pooh would have it. I like to listen to the garden as the night shift retires and the day shift awakes.  The flights of nocturnal moths are made perilous by hunting parties of micro bats who seek their roost just before dawn. The possums who hold riotous parties seek their hollows in nearby large Eucalypts. Wood ducks hurry their tiny wiggle tailed broods to the local creek as amorous frogs finally fall silent. Roosters and Honeyeaters of many species sing their welcome to the Sun. The air is cool and perfumed with the blossoms that have decided to get a head start on Spring. Most of the local native species are currently in bloom, taking advantage of late season rain and early season warmth. The only thing that disturbs my pleasure is the weedy gaps in all of this greenery. They jar the senses. They remind me that this is a neglected space. They goad me to do something.

Death brought a sword. Ceremony demanded it.

What is the Fuel Economy?

Dad’s version of Auld Lang Syne;

“On mules we find
Two legs behind
And two we find before
We stand behind, before we find
what the two behind be for .. “

Late in the first day of June, my Father passed peacefully away. Those of you who never got to meet him, I am sorry for your loss. Those of you who had had the pleasure of his company know “peaceful” is a polite lie. Dad never did anything the easy way. Somewhere on the Aethereal Planes, the Reaper is nursing a few broken ribs and a stiff brandy while ruefully contemplating a scored and twisted scythe. My Father is close by telling terrible jokes to make that grinning skull laugh .. because laughing with broken ribs would hurt.