OK, so this is NOT Pickle..... there is so much good stuff happening in the world, I can't stop wanting to show you!
I keep writing half a blog piece and not finishing them.... so many different topics, from cheese to rocket science, common sense, happy gardeners and seed sowing.... even this Singapore conference called Skyrise Greenery and Biover-city from Wilson's blog.
Why does the media focus so much on fighting and accidents and politician's scuffles, when there is so much worth while information pouring out from every corner of the world, every day? I reckon Maggie could tell us more than enough great stuff, all by herself!
Today I cleaned out the chook pen. Hard to know what to call it really.... its a couple of old apple boxes, on upturned, old metal drums, with a couple of sheets of corrugated iron over the top..... typical Tasmanian construction, using stuff from the tip shop.
I have been putting off doing it for ages but Wednesday is "please myself" day so I did it.... because I didn't have to.... I am a bit like that.... I hate doing stuff if I have to! Anyway, I had a wheelbarrow load of dry, old chook poo and straw so I did another job I have been putting off, clearing around some of the young fruit trees, making a chook proof ring around each and filling it with goodies to feed the developing fruit; namely the stuff from the chook pen. Sounds rather dull and why am I telling you this??
.... Because the fruit trees are all in full blossom and a babbling brook chatted merrily away with me as Pickle and I worked.... well, Pickle mostly ate chook poo, dug holes or chased the chooks, while I did the work. If you are from almost anywhere you will still be thinking "So what?". BUT if you are from South Australia you will entirely understand how enthralling, relaxing, uplifting and wonderful it is to have a babbling brook beside you as you work in your garden!
Jersey cows with long eyelashes chewed the deep, green grass on the other side of the chook yard..... the willow is donning her new, lime green gown and it swished this way and that in the light spring breeze. All the while, the water flowed beneath the trees, which themselves housed families of wrens, honey eaters and other singing birds, building spring nests....
I felt like I was in rural England.... where apple trees laden with blossom are de rigeur and brooks babble in every little village, dipping under roman bridges, turning millstones, or accessed down cobbled lanes dotted with Tudor pubs and women in scarves.
If I say it felt magical, you will ask what I put in my gin and tonic! But to me, it was magical. I chose this house to live in after a rather stressful year; it could have been a disaster. It was the only place I actually looked at, in an alphabetical listing of likely 1 acre properties in Tasmania. So when it feels so right, so me, it really is magic.....