Milly and Melanie/GTL have both recently bought new homes and are both still in the process of moving. Melanie, I think, is getting the interior painted – ‘Dorian Gray’. We are not sure if that will make her younger, or the house – and Milly has a new dog-friendly floor, finished yesterday I think, I haven’t seen it yet.
Milly also has workmen in getting her old cottage ready to sell, though there are still painting jobs left for me. And then there’s daughter Gee who earlier this year bought a sea-change property 450 km south and who hopefully will take the bigger pieces of family furniture.
Time to think of housewarming presents.
Melanie, you’re getting flowers. When I was little, mum and dad – dad was nearly always the gardener – had a very English garden, stocks, pansies, hollyhocks, sweet peas, and the big green shrubby one with blue flowers whose name has gone out of my head (hydrangeas); partly because the southern, wetter parts of Victoria – Gippsland and the Western District – have sadly had their landscapes cleared of gums and been Englishified with pines and willows; and partly because that’s how dad’s mum gardened. Anyway, ever since, pansies have been one of my favourite flowers.
I was an ignorant young husband, but after we separated the first time, I got into the habit of bringing Milly flowers when I visited – Lilliums, sunflowers and sweet william (of course). Coming home from north Queensland, to Melbourne, I often passed through fields of sunflowers, and one time I stopped long enough to pick a bucketfull from the side of the road. I’m sure they are a common sight in the Mid West, but Melanie have some more, from me.
I’m afraid I’m ignorant enough of Australian flowers to have no idea what would survive outside your new farmhouse, but I think Melanie, you mentioned one time African violets for your kitchen window. My mum for as long as I can remember has had one or two cyclamens on her windowsill above the sink. When I said yesterday to Milly that I thought cyclamens and African violets were the same thing, she looked at me, as she often does, with unbelieving scorn. I toss a coin and it comes up cyclamens.
The image is from the Alpine Garden Society, Victoria (here), so they might even grow outside.
As I write, it’s Friday and I should be on my way to Melbourne for mum’s birthday, but there’s no freight on the computer and Dragan on whom I was relying has come up with nothing. On Monday I’ll double up my trailers and go over empty.
AWWC March 2022
|Wed||02||Elizabeth Lhuede||Suffering, resistance and resilience|
|Fri||04||EL||Jack Rugby, “Betty Pops the Question” (short story)|
|Wed||09||Jonathan Shaw||Zora Cross|
|Fri||11||EL||Bernice May, Impressions of Some Writing Women (nonfiction extract) (Bernice May is a penname for Zora Cross)|
|Wed||16||Bill Holloway||David Adams ed., The Letters of Rachel Henning (review)|
|Fri||18||EL||Rachel Henning Writes from Exmoor (nonfiction extract)|
|Wed||23||Stacey Roberts||Exploring the AWWC Archives|
|Fri||25||EL||Mrs Francis Vidal, Tales For the Bush 1 (short story)|
|Wed||30||Whispering Gums||Early Australian women writers, 2: Secondary sources|