Lovely lavender

I will attempt to write this post in the style of E.M. Delafield's "Diary of a Provincial Lady," with apologies to Ms. Delafield.

The connection between this style and the colour lavender will hopefully become apparent.

You should also note, as I did with much amazement, that Ms. Delafield's diary was published in 1930. Helen Fielding's "Bridget Jones's Diary" was published in 1996.

May 11th: Awaken to discover husband and children still asleep. Dog discovered to be sleeping under a pink baby-blanket. Feel grave disappointment that blanket is not lavender. (Mem: must ask daughter if can take photo of her room).

Check blog. See usual suspects have checked in with witty and encouraging comments. Revisit turquoise in Sweden and Blue Mountains.

Hear the dulcet tones of "Guitar Hero." Son must be up.

Eat a lovely, solitary, breakfast of sourdough toast with butter and jam, and strong tea.

Consult just-awakened husband about lavender day. Husband seems unable to focus.

Supply husband with coffee and toast. Remark, perhaps sarcastically, that it is my hope he is enjoying mother's day so far.

Husband smiles sweetly. Find myself unable to remain sarcastic.

Breakfast conversation becomes general, although my thoughts are concerned solely with lavender, lavender, lavender, lavender.

Breakfast goes off well.

Return to library and begin perusing shelves. Am struck by large number of mustard-coloured books. (Mem: must remember this if ever need to create mustard-flavoured post again. This, however, is doubtful).

Eventually discover one tiny book which might be considered to be a lavender colour. It is, however, a DRIED lavender.

Photograph lavender. (Query: is it possible that I am addicted to blogging?)


I take note of lavender book's title and feel justified in my love for all things blogful. A blog, after all, is a diary, and as such cannot be termed a harmful, illegal drug.

Choose six other books in my attempt to encapsulate Colour Week.

Husband enters library and offers assistance.

Husband takes the seven books to back garden, claiming natural light may be better for photographing them. (Query: is this husband's way of saying I too might benefit from some sunshine and time away from the library?).

Take a satisfactory photo, but notice that have also captured hanging laundry in background. Husband obligingly offers to remove offending garments.


Husband agrees that photograph taken UNINTENTIONALLY does make a lovely mother's day gift. (Mem: must tell fellow bloggers not to comment on husband's beautifully framed posterior. Fear eurolush may be inappropriate).

Discover I have inadvertently placed olive before ocean. Blame husband for this error. Husband remains charming throughout.

Daughter awakens and assures me that there is MUCH lavender in her room, and it may be photographed.

Begin to read lavender book while standing in back garden in pyjamas.

Claim extreme exhaustion and declare my mother's day gift to be waiting for me upstairs, in my bed. Family is relieved to be rid of me.

Read lavender book in bed, gleefully, while enjoying a bar of Green & Black's organic bittersweet dark chocolate. (Mem: must remember to restock night-table drawer).

Arrive downstairs two hours later in elevated mood. Take photograph of daughter's lavender jewellery.

Also photograph lavender decoration daughter has placed on rubbish bin.

And that's all folks!!!!!!!!!!!

Well...almost... I would like to thank ANNA - THANK YOU ANNA FOR INVITING ME INTO YOUR BLOG AND SHARING YOUR LOVE OF COLOUR WITH ME. I would also like to thank MARY - THANK YOU MARY FOR INVITING ME INTO YOUR BLOG AND FOR INTRODUCING ME TO YOUR FRIEND ANNA.

And I would also like to thank all of the READERS WHO COMMENTED DURING COLOUR WEEK - COLOUR WEEK IS NOTHING WITHOUT ITS AUDIENCE!!!!!!!!

May every week be a colourful week for us all!

The colour of money

We were having dinner at my parents' home last night, and some time between the chicken soup and the apple strudel I mentioned that I was looking for turquoise things. My husband and children immediately rolled their eyes and sighed in unison. Colour Week has been most exciting and stimulating for me, but I must admit that I have been somewhat...umm...shall we say....OBSESSED with it. Possibly to the point of dementing my family (Mary - I use that verb ALL of the time now).

My parents, however, know little about my blogging and were politely interested. My father casually remarked that, perhaps, he might find me a horse with a turquoise theme. No, my daddy was not offering to buy me a blue pony, but rather to place a bet on a horse. Most Saturdays my father enjoys looking through "The Form" and betting on any horses that have the word "sea" in their name. He only bets on horses with "sea" in their name. That's just his thing, and he's made some money off it so who am I to question.


Well....with that suggestion...I was off!! I raced to grab "The Form" from the coffee table, only to discover gleefully that there were a lot of tiny pictures of satin jockey shirts with matching hats:

How adorable is that??!! There seemed to be a large number of turquoise outfits to choose from, but I could not find a horse whose name matched the outfit. Nothing felt quite right.

Then, I saw this little beauty:

My dad immediately circled it in red, because that is his betting habit. Not only was the horse called TURQUIA, but it was racing in the Blue Sapphire Stakes. The race's title even mentions JEEP, which is blackbird's pretty new car, and blackbird recently placed a bet on a horse most successfully.


My father nodded encouragingly, for he knows that betting is all about the FEEL OF THE NAME. He even pointed out that Turquia was horse number 7, and that there are 7 days in Colour Week.


So, today, my father placed his own bets and then placed my $16 each-way on Turquia. I listened to the race on the radio at 1.45pm while driving my daughter to her tennis comp.


Turquia came second!!!!!!!!!!!


It paid $2.50, so I can go tomorrow and collect $20. That means I won $4.


But I really have to split it 4 ways.

And then she stole my thunder

This is another book in my library. It is volume II of "Albrecht Durer" by Erwin Panofsky. I found the colour of my thunder in it:

The title of this engraving is "Melencolia I"

There is thunder in her eyes
And it just comes out on Fridays
And its colour is a mean and ugly black.

And she takes that sticky thunder-colour,
Puts it in her pocket,
But the thunder stain,
It just keeps coming back.

And she used to try and say
To her dear ones on that day
That the thunder
Was the colour of her love.

But both she and they knew clearly
That the thunder very nearly
Blacked out all the other colours
With its shout.
____________________________________

I was going to leave it at that.

But then, just before I was ready to post the thunder and send it on its way, I thought to myself (as one does) "let's just quickly check out eurolush's blog."

And then she stole my thunder.

Yes.

Her blog was so sunny, cheerful and humorous....and all wrapped up so neatly in that special eccentric funkiness that is eurolush. Her post took my scowling thunder of a face in its two little hands, and forced my frowning mouth to raise itself into a smile. There might even have been a chuckle or two to be heard, instead of that dark, forbidding shout that was.

So that's how eurolush stole my thunder. It was just lucky that I had captured it quickly on this post before it was gone for the day. Because A and M are counting on me, you know.

The olive perspective

The cover of a book in my library, with thanks to Joan Miro.


The three women sat around a small round table which had been placed under the olive tree. The table was set with a large mustard-coloured teapot and three peony-coloured teacups. The children, all ages, shapes and sizes, instantly took off at a run through the sun-dappled grass, yelling happily to each other and to no-one in particular. The dogs followed them, prancing back and forth, intent on remaining in the midst of the joyful childhood mess. This was most welcome to the three women. Silence descended upon them, and only the tiniest of bird-trills could be heard from the olive branches above their heads.

A poured the tea, M placed her silver camera against the silvery leaves and captured the moment, E scribbled something indecipherable in her tiny notebook. M and E picked up their peony-cups and peered warily at the steaming hot ocean-blue tea. A laughed gleefully and took a long, hearty sip from her own cup. M and E looked at each other, shrugged, and sipped along with A. At first, their sipping was polite, but it soon turned into a hearty gulping, for the tea tasted as good as a day at the beach.

“So, what’s next A?” asked E, with some trepidation. M put down her peony-cup, smacked her lips, and waited. A clapped her hands together once, turned to the two and said “the olive perspective.” M cocked her head to the side and opened her eyes wide, E twitched and narrowed her eyes and looked nervously around her, A laughed and said “don’t look so serious, it’s only a game.”

“What is an olive perspective?” M asked politely. “Will we have to change our clothes?” asked E excitedly. A sighed. “The olive perspective is whatever you like, and you can do whatever you like with it,” she said. “That makes me nervous,” said E ,“it’s too open to interpretation. Can’t we once, just once, do a true/false quiz?” M picked up her silver camera and pointed it at E and clicked, “here is a picture of E pondering the olive perspective,” she showed A. “Yes,” said A, “I see you understand.”

E remained perplexed, for she could not reach a comfortable, acceptable definition of olive. Was olive in fact a real colour at all? Was it not just a darker, sadder version of green? She excused herself and walked into the house, picked up the phone and called Colours the Clown. “Yes dearest?” said Colours, “I’m in trouble,” replied E, “A has assigned us the olive perspective.” After a long silence, Colours said “a martini darling,” and promptly hung up. E instantly felt better.

When E returned to the table under the tree she was shocked to discover that A and M had left without her. The teapot and teacups had been cleared. Only a few drops of the ocean-tea remained on the table, as proof that they had once sat there. As she stood all alone, staring at the table and at the three empty chairs, she heard the sounds of the children once again and looked up to see them all running towards her. There were even more children than before, and she briefly wondered where they had come from and where, oh where, were their mothers? Then, before she could say “am I to be the neighbourhood babysitter once again?” the children surrounded her and began singing and dancing.

Some of the little girls did cartwheels, the older girls had peony-garlands in their hair. The boys were boisterous and sweaty, some of the smaller boys were carrying tiny pebbles and shells. Then, amidst the merry mayhem, the tiniest boy of the group pushed his way through the crowd, and stood in front of E. He tilted his head up and put out his open palm to show her something. E kneeled down on the moist grass, thinking that this will surely stain her trousers, and looked at the little boy’s treasure.

The little boy was holding a tiny wooden ark, and inside it were even tinier little wooden animals, all in pairs. He smiled at E and then rummaged in his trouser pocket with his free hand. He brought out a tiny wooden bird, and in its beak was an even tinier wooden olive branch. He gave the bird to E, and smiled, and laughed, and then disappeared in the crowd. E called out after the little boy “thank youuuu!” and she could just manage to hear, above the sounds of crazy childhood backyard games, a high thin voice singing back to her “your weeeelcome.”

Thursday was a wonderful day after all.

OCEAN

I woke up this morning, back home, ready for a day full of hard work. But Anna knocked on my door, grabbed me by the hand, and forced me to go for a walk down to the ocean with her. So what could I do but laugh and go?
Now...I hadn't even eaten my breakfast yet, so she started by taking me out to a cafe (isn't that nice of her?)...and then....well, you can see for yourselves:

Marvellous mustard

If you look very carefully, you can see a little dab of mustard on top of the water:

This little row-boat was the loveliest vessel in Cairns port.

I also saw much more mustard UNDER the water:

I expected the reef to be filled with bright, primary colours. But I was mistaken. The colour theme on the reef is actually mustard. Can you believe that Anna?!!!

Now...this is an Australian $50 note. This is what it cost me to hire the underwater digital camera yesterday. It was worth every penny!

Great Barrier Reef Peony

I have just returned from a day at the Great Barrier Reef. Luckily, I was able to rent a water-proof digital camera. Otherwise, Anna would not have believed that I found a peony there, just under the water's surface.