CHRISTMAS BEETLE ORGY – THE AFTERMATH

Christmas is now but a memory. We have eaten through our christmas cake, a whole ham, a turkey, a triffle, all the ice cream and the beer, not to mention salads by the ton.

We’ve also helped consume Christmas left overs when invited to the homes of neighbours and our friends post Christmas day.

I’ve sworn off French Toast with strawberrys, banana, maple syrup, whipped cream and ice cream for at least a year,  ocasional lapses permitted.

However those bloody Christmas Beetles just haven’t stopped feasting on our trees for one moment. Sure, their numbers may have decreased somewhat but their destruction continues unabated.

This afternoon I wandered around the yard and took a number of photos to illustrate their voracious appetite.

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Imagine  the damage to this single leaf multiplied by many thousands and you can visualise the damage they have caused here in just a week or so.

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This tree was one of the first to come under attack. Not much green foliage left on it now.

 

Up closer you get the general idea of the damage the beetles cause by their non stop munching.

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With any luck, the little buggers will leave enough leaves intact so that the trees will continue to breathe and survive till next time.

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For some unknown reason, the beetles have left  branches and their leave that are nearest the ground almoast intact.

Altogether, nine of our mature trees have hosted the beetles banquets.

Here at Casa Creakingbones we hope that no Christmas Beetle invitations will be issued in future.

It goes without saying of course that surviving members of a better known beetles group would always be welcome.

 

Joo roo for now.

 

 

 

 

 

OUR CHRISTMAS BEETLE INVASION

In our neck of the woods around Christmas time it gets a bit hot, usually in the high 70’s  to the low 80’s (Farenheight that is). There is sometimes a bit of rain, usually in the afternoon and the combination of heat and moisture brings out the flies in their millions.

When outside, we are pepetually waving at non existant people , not because we are demented but waving keeps the flys away from our face.

Now the positive side of the heat and the moisture is the arrival of the Christmas Beetle.

A quick check at the Australian Museum rreveals that there are 36 species of Christmas Beetle, of which only one is not unique to Australia.

The Christmas Beetle is a type of Scarab and is of the genus Anoplognathus. 21 members of the of the species are found in the State of New South Wales where I reside.

Their arrival at Casa Creekingbones  was heralded the other night by large nubers of them crashing into our windows, lured by the lights.

Now Christmas Beetles enjoy munching on the leaves of Eucalypt trees and swarms of them have been know to denude a tree of all leaves, to the extent that the tree dies.

Well, yesterday I went out to the shed and noticed shredded eucalypt leaves  covering the ground. The culprits, Christmas Beetles in their hundreds, munching away  on the leaves of the treasured eucalyupts we planted as tube stock about sixteen years ago.

Does shaking them out of the trees help you may ask? Not at all. All it does is get them to fly off, hover for a moment or two and zoom straightr back in. Those that don’t land in your hair or on your clothes that is.

Fortunately for us, their life span is relatively short and with luck, by the time they have had their fun, our trees will have sufficient foliage remaining to regenerate.

Our invaders are Emerald Tip Christmas Beetles and certainly make a pleasant display on the leaves and in their own way are quite interesting to watch so we have decided not to spray them with insecticide and let nature take its course.

Here are a few images of the little devils at work:

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You can see why the name Emerald Tip applies. This is the rear view of the beetle.

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The saw tooth leaf edges are testimony to their munching style.

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They certainly don’t mind sharing and just hanging around.

blog-christmas-beetles_30dec-2016_0004-copy    They form quite orderly queues too.

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As you can see, they don’t leave very much of the leaves, no pun intended.

blog-christmas-beetles_30dec-2016_0018-copy-4You can see how many beetles there are on this section of one of our eucalypts.

All of these images were made using a Nikkor 24 to 70mm lens, various f stops and shutter speeds on a D810 body.

In a week or so I’ll follow up with a couple of images of the trees and their remaining foliage.

Hoo roo for now.

 

 

 

 

 

MOTORCYCLES, STIFF JOINTS AND JUST GETTING A LITTLE BIT OLDER.

A few weeks back, She Who Must Be Obeyed suggested that I roll the Harley out of the shed and go for a ride, just to clear the cobwebs.

It sounded like a great idea, weather was perfect, traffic almost negligible and both the Harley and I needed a few hours on the road.

After the usual checks, lights, indicators, oil, fuel and tyre pressures, I rolled the bike out onto the launching pad. For the first time I really noticed that my beloved HOG weighs in at 317 kilos or 698 lbs unladen. Throw in the wet weather gear, camera, phone, tyre repair kit, tool kit and a few other odds and ends and the bike certainly is no lightweight.

When I threw the leg over the seat, a further little issue arose. My right boot came into solid contact with the pillion perch and threw me quite off balance. As I always hold the bars when mounting I didn’t fall but I frightened the tripe out of myself, not to mention putting a dirty scrape over the perch.

So there I was, all kitted up to hit the road only to encounter unwelcome distractions before I’d even hit the starter.

Of course, being a bloke, it’s important to always have someone or something to blame when things go a bit pear shaped.

In this instance I was fortunate that there was something to blame. Oh no, not advancing age, buggered knees , a bad back and stiff joints generally.

It was obviously the fault of the pillion perch. Too wide, too high and all together far too prominent.

A solution was close at hand. MJM Custom Motor Bike Seats is located just around the corner from Casa Creakingbones and Mick, the proprietor is well know to me.

Now as luck would have it, I just happened to have a spare Harley pillion perch tucked away in my man cave. Identical dimensions to the one installed on the Harley of course.

Post haste, spare pillion perch under my arm, I was at Mick’s front counter and we discussed practical solutions to my dilemma.

Mick drew a few lines on the spare and I decided that it’s proposed reduced surface area and new shape would solve my problems.

Today I collected the finished perch and fitted it to the bike. To say I’m delighted would be an under statement.

It fits the bike perfectly, my right foot clears it by miles and it still retains its little back support for me when I’m in the saddle.

Here are before and after photos so you can see the difference.

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AFTER:

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On the odd occasions when carriage of a pillion passenger may be unavoidable, the new perch will fit the bill, provided that the journey is not too great.

After the Christmas break when the traffic eases and the desperados have reached their destinations I’ll venture out and about to show my motorcycle mates the fantastic job Mick has done and demonstrate that despite bung knees and all the rest,  my Harley suits me to a ‘T’.

Hoo roo for now.

 

 

 

WHOM OWNS WHOM?

A few years ago a feral ginger tom cat took up residence, firstly in our backyard and subsequently in the back shed.

Fortunately our unwanted and uninvited visitor ignored ‘Tom’, our house cat and vice versa. Peace and tranquility reigned for quite some time.

Then, one morning all hell broke out in the kitchen.

The cause, the ginger cat had discovered the cat flap in the laundry and entered the house, found Tom’s breakfast food and helped himself.

In the process of course, being a tom cat, the ginger intruder had marked every available object the way tom cats are prone to do.

Our house cat objected physically and there were clumps of fur all over the place.

After quite a chase inside the house and the inevitable scratches and the odd nip, the unwanted guest was captured, caged and taken to the local pound.

Would they accept the ginger cat. No way. The response from the staff was simply, leave the cat in the yard and it will eventually go somewhere else.

Now feral cats are a problem everywhere, they destroy native fauna and if not desexed multiply and create more havoc.

So, we decided to take the errant  feline to the local vet, have him immunised, desexed and micro chipped so we could safely adopt him.

Eventually the new arrival, now named ‘Ginger’ for some unknown reason, settled in, became reluctant mates with Tom and became accustomed to being house bound during the night.

The years have slipped by and now our debate about Ginger revolves around the question of whom owns whom in Cassa Creakingbones?

I thought this image might answer that question.

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Hoo roo for now.

POETRY,POETRY, EVERYWHERE.

For some reason or other, many of my mates have suddenly discovered poetry and, with great gusto,  have added a poet’s handbook to their communication bag of tricks.

Not wishing to be left out of the mix I thought that today, just once, I’d try my hand at writing poetry but confess that the result can only be described as ‘doggerel’ but never the less, here it goes:-

It seems to me that poetry,

is now the only place to be

cause all my mates, it’s what they’ve chose

and most of it is on the nose.

 

Some just don’t rhyme , so,

perhaps its time

to dump the pen till Christmas time.

 

Some wrote of heaven, some of hell

their stories somehow didn’t gell

I much preferred ‘Poor Little Nell’

in fact I memorised it well.

 

Then ‘Poor Little Angeline’

soon became my heroine

then add a limerick, why not three

politically correct,  I’ll never be

and that’s the only ‘poetry’,

you’ll ever, ever get from me.

 

Hoo roo for now.

 

HARLEY DAYS 2016 – AN HARLEY OWNERS GROUP EVENT.

Any owner of an Harley Davidson motor cycles is welcome to join the Harley Owners Group. HOG as it is known is a world wide club for Harley owners and consists of Chapters associated with a specific Harley Davidson Dealership.

In Australia, annual State HOG Rallies are held and a National Rally is also an annual event. Traditionally, participation in these rallies is restricted to HOG members and their specific guests.

2015 saw the Annual HOG rally conducted in Tamworth, a large regional city in New South Wales. The rally was a great  success and spawned the idea of a National HOG rally ,open on specific days for riders of any brand of motor cycles.

The name coined by Harley Davidson Australia for the event was Harley Days.

The 28, 29 and 30th October 2016 were designated for the event and the chosen site was Stuart Park in the seaside city of Wollongong, New South Wales.

Friday the 28th was designated specifically for Harley Owners Group members and the other two days were open for everyone.

In order to access the HOG member only events, registration was required and scannable tickets were issued.

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As SWMBO and I  waited outside for the arrival of some friends, it was apparent that the day’s attendances would be strong as the crowd began to increase as the 10am opening time drew closer.

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OUTSIDE STUART PARK 30 MINUTES BEFORE THE 10AM OPENING.
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JUST A FEW MINUTES LATER  FROM ACROSS THE ROAD

Once inside the park, the grand scale of the event was evident. Harley owners in their distinctive HOG paraphernalia where everywhere. Vendors of every conceivable Harley part, collectible,  clothing and memorabilia were in abundance.

In pride of place was the Harley Davidson World pavilion containing a great array of Harleys and the new most powerful standard Harley Davidson engine ever, to be rolled out on selected 2017 models.

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With our friends we wandered around the exhibits and enjoyed the ever present sound of the rumble of hundreds of Harleys as they left the park  to participate in organised rides around Wollongong  and its environs.

We were particularly interested in the world’s fastest Harley Davidson, recorded at some phenomenal speed on the salt flats in Utah in the USA.

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ALLEGEDLY THE WORLD’S FASTEST HARLEY DAVIDSON.
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ANOTHER CUSTOM STYLE HARLEY. NOTE THE EXHAUST SYSTEM AND CUSTOM WHEELS.
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OUR FRIENDS JOHN AND ALLAN HEADING INTO A SEA OF HARLEY DAVIDSONS.
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ANOTHER GREAT DRESSER WELL KITTED OUT WITH ACCESSORIES.
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LOW AND MEAN LOOKING.

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SWMBO WITH FRIEND DEBBIE CHATTING WITH A MEMBER OF THE NSW HOG CHAPTER OF WHICH I’M A MEMBER.

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NOTHING LIKE THE SPARKLE OF LUSTROUS  CHROME ON A HARLEY DAVIDSON.
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A SEA OF HARLEY DAVIDSONS.
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MORE AND MORE, EVERY MODEL AND EVERY COMBINATION OF COLOUR AND ACCESSORIES.
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THE CLOUDS BEGAN TO ROLL IN WITH A SHOWER OR TWO BUT NOTHING DETERS  A HOG MEMBER FROM A GREAT RIDE.
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MORE AND MORE EYE CANDY – OF THE MECHANICAL TYPE OF COURSE.
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A NOVEL WAY TO IDENTIFY A TOILET BLOCK IN STUART PARK.

At day’s end, the official number of bikes was stated to be a roughly 1,500. To me it seemed a bit on the conservative side as there were hundreds of Harleys and other marques parked in the streets around the venue. It will be interesting, when the event is reviewed by the organisers, to learn the final number of attendees and motorcylcles.

One of the great things the five of us noted was the large number of female riders present and participating in the organised rides.

Ladies of Harley as they are known form a integral part of every HOG Chapter and are fully integrated into the management and organisation of the entire Chapter.

As an example, for quite a number of years, the Canberra Chapter in the Australian Capital Territory elected a Lady of Harley as the Chapter Director, the HOG nomenclature for President.

Additionally, many Ladies of Harley become Road Captains and as the name implies, organise, lead and control Chapter rides.

By the time our little group had visited all of the exhibitors, viewed multiple Harleys, spoken to many, many vendors and Harley Owners, it was time to leave Harley Days and make our way home.

Will Harley Days become a permanent fixture on the annual HOG Rally program? Only time will tell.

On a totally different note, all of the above images were captured either on my iPhone 6s or my Panasonic DMC-LX100 which sports a Leica lens.

There has been no post processing except size reduction. I think you might agree that there is very little difference in image quality and it is difficult to determine which camera made which particular image.

So there we are. Another interesting motorcycle/photographic day.

Hoo roo for now

AN ENJOYABLE SUNDAY MORNING RAMBLE.

She Who Must Be Obeyed and I are members of the local U3A  walking Group. U3A stands for ‘University of the Third Age’ and offers courses and activities of those of us of mature age or putting it more bluntly,  oldies.

A month or so back, the U3A Committee decided to add Rambling to the existing weekly walking program in order to present  gentle challenges  to our walks and reintroduce us to the beauty of our bush and countryside.

The Concise Oxford Dictionary describes the word Ramble as,’Walk for pleasure and without definite route.’

Now Occupation Health and Safety requirements have crept into every nook and cranny of our lives here in The Land Down Uunder, and its presence in the U3A was clearly demonstrated to us a couple of Sundays ago on the first ‘offical’ U3A trial Ramble.

Our ramble began at a spot just out of town and next to our main general cemetery. Having regard to our cumulative age I had a bit of a laugh to myself when our leader advised that this would be our finishing point.

Off we went up a gentle incline en route to the start of a bush track to take us up to a Trig point located at the top of a stand out hill.

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THE BEGINNING OF THE U3A’S FIRST RAMBLE.

At the top of this little incline there was a dirt track leading upwards towards the as yet unseen Trig Station.

There was a nice open space at the start of the track and it was here that our leader introduced the presence of OH & S to our Ramble.

Firstly we had  to wear our U3A name tags. Secondly, sign the attendance book and thirdly agree to indemnify the U3A against any misfortune that could befall us on any ramble.

Then we were all introduced to two electronic marvels purchased by the U3A to ensure our safety and well being in the event of a disaster befalling any member of the group whilst on a ramble.

The first marvel was a Garmin GPSMAP64s. This small GPS can access not only the navigation satellites of the Unites States of America but also those of the Soviet Union.

It’s a powerful little gadget loaded with every 1:25,000 contour map of Australia and New Zealand. These maps contain particulars of every road, street, track and town and are reproduced, on command on the gadget’s colour screen with zoom available for greater detail. One of the handiest features of this GPS is its capacity to identify and navigate to  the location of the nearest coffee shop.

Next came the EPIRB. This little Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon, when activated, connects with the International Standard Rescue System.  The location of the beacon is then relayed to the emergency services and help is despatched from the nearest and relevant service, e.g., Police, Ambulance, SES, FireBrigade and so on.

There is a strict protocol in place for use of EPIRBS and misuse attracts a very, very heavy financial penalty.

Fortunately, She Who Must Be Obeyed and I have navigated in the outback for many years with the assistance of our  Magellan GPS.

During our sea kayaking days we always carried an EPIRB and again, are familiar with its proper use and the penalties misuse attracts. Fortunately we have never been really lost.

Anyway, after introduction to these aids, we set off uphill through the trees following the directions provided by the leader’s Garmin GPS.

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ON THE TRACK HEADING TOWARDS THE TRIG STATION
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LOOKING BACK TOWARDS TOWN WITH THE ROCKY HILL WAR MEMORIAL IN THE BACKGROUND.
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DELIGHTFUL AND DELICATE NATIVE GROUND COVER BESIDE THE TRACK
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THE TRIG STATION AT LAST. I WAS PUFFING SO MUCH I COULD HARDLY HOLD THE CAMERA STEADY.
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OUR INTREPID LEADER CONSULTED THE MAP BEFORE DECIDING THE RIGHT TRACK TO TAKE US BACK TO THE CEMETERY.
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IT SEEMED APPROPRIATE  THAT IT WAS DOWN HILL ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE CEMETERY.

Everyone enjoyed the first ramble and I decided on the spot that humping the Nikon D810 plus its battery pack and two lenses, together with a day pack containing  my rain gear, water, a first aid kit  and a bit of tucker was a bit too much of a load for an old bloke like me.

Henceforth I’m going to leave the pack, rain gear, first aid kit and tucker at home and just slip the water bottle onto my belt.

By doing so, I’ll be able to comfortably take the essential elements of a successful ramble, to wit, my Nikon camera gear, on our next ramble.

Hoo roo for now

STEAMPUNK VICTORIANA FAIR BACK IN GOULBURN FOR THE THIRD YEAR.

On Saturday the 15th October last, the fascinating Steampunk Victoriana Fair returned to Goulburn’s Historic Water Works for the third time.

This year, the Fair’s Special Guest was Ms Tara Moss, the well known author, television celebrity and model.

The fair was well promoted by local shops displaying this  comprehensive advertising poster:steampunk-poster001

As you can see from the poster, there was something for everyone and Ms Tara Moss was the stand out attraction. Not only was Ms Moss dressed for the occasion but she was approachable, friendly and when it came time for her to judge the Steampunkers’ outfits she was particularly attentive to the young competitors, gave encouragement and personally complimented every one of them.

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GOULBURN’S HISTORIC WATER WORKS WHERE STEAMPUNK 2016 WAS HELD.
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THE PARTICIPANTS BEGIN TO ARRIVE
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A GREAT CHARACTER WHO AMUSED THE KIDS AND THE ADULTS TOO.
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THESE TWO YOUNG LADIES TOOK OUT BEST COSTUME AS JUDGED BY Ms TARA MOSS, AS THEIR PROUD DAD, WHO WAS ALSO A COMPETITOR, LOOKED ON.
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COLOURFUL COSTUMES AND CHARACTERS HAD THE KIDS ENTHRALLED.
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SUITABLY ATTIRED FOR THE EVENT.
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‘NO MADAM, HE’S NOT A DOG OF WAR.’
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MESS WITH ME AT YOUR PERIL.
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‘WHEN YOU GET TO KNOW ME YOU WILL SEE I’VE GOT A SOFT SIDE.’
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DRESSED FOR THE OCCASION
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SETTING THE SCENE.
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THE CARD SHARP.
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BEAUTY ON PARADE.
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UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL.
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NIKON ON SHOW.
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FAMILY ON PARADE.
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NOTHING LIKE A GOOD AUDIENCE.
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LOOK AT US.
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MASKED AND READY FOR ANYTHING.
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HIGHLANDER AND FRIENDS.
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HOW CAN THESE YOUNG LADIES SIT DOWN COMFORTABLY?
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GOULBURN’S MAYOR, COUNCILLOR BOB KIRK, IN THE TOP HAT,  SHARES A JOKE WITH SWMBO.
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Ms TARA MOSS WITH HER PRINCIPAL OTHER.
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Ms MOSS WITH HER VOLUNTEER CLOSE PERSONAL PROTECTION.
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STRIKING A GENUINE RURAL NOTE, THE SHEEP WAS A REAL HIT WITH THE KIDS.
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THE WOLLONDILLY RIVER MAKES A FINE BACKDROP FOR THESE WELL DRESSED LADIES.
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A WELL PUNKERSISED DIGITAL CAMERA WITH IT’S PHOTOGRAPHER OWNER.
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GRACIOUS THREE WHEELED TRANSPORT.
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STYLE AND GRACE WILL WIN THE RACE.

The weather was kind on the day, the crowd became larger as time passed and everyone

appeared to be enjoying themselves, I certainly did.

Next year promises to be even bigger and better.

Hoo roo for now.

TO WEED OR NOT TO WEED, THAT IS THE QUESTION?

She Who Must Be Obeyed holds a Certificate 4 in Horticulture. With that qualification one would be entitled to think that Cassa Creaking Bones would have the smartest, most attractive and weed free gardens with manicured lawns in our little enclave on the outskirts of town.

That is definitely not the case.  Fortunately for me, as a bloke totally devoid of green thumbs, She Who Must Be Obeyed is of the opinion that certain weeds have more to offer visually than many of the flowering specialty plants available in nurseries.

Of course, these specialty plants are in prolific quantities and displayed beautifully in the gardens of our neighbours.

I don’t envy the neighbours’ enthusiasm for digging garden beds and edging them with misshaped rocks. I’d rather be out and about with the camera or on the bike actually going somewhere.

Now over the past few months, our region in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, has, like many other parts of Australia,  experienced heavy rain and with the arrival of Spring and warmer days, our native trees and our grassed areas have taken on a new lease of life.

This has been accompanied by many, many broad leafed weeds popping up everywhere.

No sooner do they appear in the gardens and lawns of our neighbours than they disappear, often overnight. Is it a mystery? Not at all.

The answer lies in the liberal use of weed poison.

Do we possess weed poison? Of course we do. She Who Must be Obeyed is qualified to buy Roundup in 20 litre drums. We have one in the shed, been there for 1o years or so, never been opened.  Purchased as part of the Horticulture course. It even has a back pack hand pump delivery system. Its use is totally prohibited at Casa Creaking Bones.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve no objection to weeds, they have their place in the natural scheme of things. However, there comes a point when stern action could be taken.

After all, I am an Aussie bloke living outside the big cities and when it suits me, I follow the country blokes mantra, ‘If it’s growing chop it down, if it’s moving, shoot it!’

Now that Aussie mantra is a bit difficult to apply to weeds and just hopping on the ride on mower and chopping away achieves nothing as the weeds just ‘keep on keeping on’.

Accordingly I surreptitiously slipped into the local hardware store yesterday and purchased some Weed and Feed which you just attach to the hose and spray around the place and a small quantity of Zero that you dab onto the offending weed and as the name implies, that’s it. Bye bye broad leafed weed.

Last night, after a delicious roast leg of lamb, mint sauce, roast potatoes and the relevant veggies accompanied by some pleasing to the palate cab sav, I gentry broached the weeding subject with my horticulturist.

As you are no doubt aware, some family discussions can continue for quite some time where there are widely differing views held by the protagonists.

Not so in this instance. A firm, ‘No way’ closed down the discussion before it really began.

Ever the diplomat, I proclaimed that was fine by me as I found the yellow flowers quite colourful and attractive against their green background. For good measure I added that the flowers did attract the native bees.

There are benefits of course. I don’t have to get on the mower until the weeds die of old age and the whipper snipper/brush cuter can stay in the shed with the mowers.

The Weed and Feed and Zero don’t take up much space in the shed and with summer approaching, our searing summer heat will replace the little yellow flowers with prickly bindy eye. Then I’ll be welcome to dab a little zero here and there.

Here is part of the back yard with its glorious carpet of yellow. How pleasing to the eye.

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Here are two versions of the proposed cure.

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I have to admit though, the weeds do look pretty, the native birds like digging into them and they are certainly a time saver.

Hoo roo for now

 

 

 

 

TALKING ABOUT MENS’ HEALTH.

Regularly in the press and on the goggle box, we hear the experts talking about the reluctance of men to talk about their health and how we men should engage in such a dialogue , ‘for the good of our health.’

A couple of weeks ago, She Who Must be Obeyed and I attended a turnout in a local town with about 20 or so other couples. We only slightly knew the other participants through our involvement in the U3A.

As we sat in a cafe enjoying fresh, real tea in a pot ( without a trace of a tea bag) and hot freshly baked scones with lashing of cream and strawberry jam, the bloke sitting opposite me asked the fellow sitting next to him how his heart disease was progressing.

What followed was an in depth discussion about a heart disease research program they were on and how they had no idea if they were actually receiving life saving drugs or placebos.

Another bloke chimed in with a ‘very vivid’ description of his colostemy bag and how he had become used to its presence and how he dealt with it.

Another bloke  pulled up his right pants leg to show everyone the result of some plates on his tibia and fibula after a bike accident  and the trouble he was having with a bolt or two that were making their way slowly to the surface of his skin, accompanied by lots of pain.

Not to be outdone, another chap who had recently had a hip replacement regaled us all with his constipation  experience arising from a period in intensive care after his surgery.

Suddenly, one of the other blokes whom, like me, had remained mute during this multi faceted  mens’ health discussion slammed his fist on the table, jumped to his feet and angrily shouted across the table, and I quote,’ Jesus bloody Christ, they talk about men not talking about health issues, you bastards haven’t f…..g shut up about it for the last thirty bloody minutes and I’m f…..g bloody sick of hearing about your bloody issues!’

With that said, he left the table and didn’t return. Perhaps the talk reminded him about his own health, who knows.

I could see that a number of the people present were stunned by the outburst. Some commented about the use of the language and how inappropriate it was. Some others inquired about the fellow, where he was from, what he did for a living, how old he was and all the usual busybody inquiries some oldies tend to make. Privately I was slightly amused by all of by the goings on but kept a straight face.

However the open and frank statements made by the participants just goes to show that perhaps men are waking up to the need to be open about their health and are responding positively to the media campaign aimed at achieving it.

Probably though, a mixed group sitting down and enjoying a Devonshire Tea on a social occasion at a road side cafe is not an ideal time nor place for such intimate and detailed personal revelations.

On the positive side, my scones were beaut, the cream was fresh and the strawberry conserve was home made, plentiful and delicious. Didn’t make me feel sick at all.

On the way home, She Who Must be Obeyed, revealed she thought that the whole thing was like a poorly cast afternoon sitcom with a pathetic dialogue and no discernible plot.

Couldn’t agree more.

 

Hoo roo for now