Green-fingered Eccentricity
She came, she drank home brew, she conquered!
Bub, of I’d Like To Hold A Tarantula, made time in her busy schedule of adoring Most Esteemed First Granddaughter to come down to Crazy Farm to hang out with Crazy Car Man and me!
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A man in the suburbs of Melbourne was arrested today for taking a vacuum cleaner from a pile of hard rubbish someone had left out for the council to pick up and get rid of. One of the things our council rates and taxes pay for is an annual collection service of all the big junk we can’t fit in the back of our city hatches to take to the tip. Or for that matter, can’t afford to take to the tip – it costs upwards of $200 at our local tip to ditch a television. People keep these things in the shed or under the house until collection day and then dump it all on the side of the road for the council to take away.
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Crazy Car Man’s 1977 Holden Kingswood is his pride and joy. He sees beyond the fact that it takes 15 minutes to get it running on a good day – it gives him time to tune in the CB radio; he is stoic in the face of ankle deep water when it rains – he merely takes off his shoes and puts on a hat to keep the raindrops off his face; and he sees beauty when others see a filigree of rust on wheels. He beams proudly upon his classic car like a father gazing adoringly at his first born child.
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Saturday morning was so hot I pulled the gardening shorts on for the first time since May. I sent up a warning flare first so people in the vicinity could put their sunglasses on before looking at the legs directly – it is akin to looking at the sun, the glare will leave leg shaped black spots before your eyes for days afterward.
The shorts and I zoomed up to the nursery to buy some potting mix, as some of the tomato seedlings are requesting an upgrade to business class, and on the way there I spotted the cloud.
It was black. It was roiling. It was moving in fast. It looked angry and like it might have some hail to throw on my cars and my garden. The nursery folk were outside pulling the lettuce seedlings undercover, always a bad sign, so I threw some money on the counter and a couple of bags of potting mix into the boot and headed home like the hounds of hell were on my heels.
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Next to the farm on which we live is a massive piece of vacant land that Crazy Car Man and I often look at longingly. We have no idea why it’s vacant, but it was put to use by something other than boys on dirt bikes just recently.
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This time last year Crazy Car Man and I were on our mad, some say ill-fated but we say adventurous, birthday road trip to the centre of the universe. Actually, Australia, but I have a feeling the centre of the universe wouldn’t be all that different in alien atmosphere to where we went.
We packed up our 23 year old LandCruiser, disregarded the exploding oil filter (faulty part we scoffed), and drove west.
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Yes, there are shenanigans going on in the garden. Who woulda thunk it? It’s cold out, the sunshine only requires a factor 15, half of my garden is hibernating – as I wish I could be – and yet the other half is getting up to all sorts of interesting things.
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What better way to pass the time on a bizarre still Sunday whilst waiting for the ‘cyclone’ to hit than going for a cruise in the Kingswood with Crazy Car Man, scouting the junk piles in the wealthy area just south of us for detritus I can use in the garden?
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