Tank Standing Room Only

You might not suspect this is my take-away sketch from Wednesday's  yum cha lunch at Sea Treasure ( excellent name hey?) at Crows Nest. It was the Anzac Day public holiday and our table was pushed  hard up against the tanks. The lobster to the left was not at all fussy about where he put his claws down, walking all over his tankmates. It seems nearly bad manners to talk about the food (which was all it should be, hot from the kitchen, dimpled dumplings, piles of twice-cooked green studded with salty gooish chinese olives,  fried rice noodles with hoisin and peanut sauce, rounds of jasmine tea and then gloriously eggy flaky tarts...oops) when somebody's next course is rotating a stalked eye in your direction.

Rearmament ~ Mavis Regains her Lost Limbs

The last time we had news of Mavis Eggwhistle, after the unfortunate incident of her losing both her arms due to a Fit of Pique at  Bart Brassica (Infra Dig - Two's company Four's Annoying ), she was contemplating taking the  Sticky  Tape Cure to reattach her arms. As many would know the Sticky Tape cure is problematic, the result being unreliable, unsightly and a hindrance to most activities.

Bravely Mavis is trialling a new Blue-Tac Stem Cell technique, which so a far, has worked a treat and even gives her a degree more flexibility. Mavis feels, as a florist, that as stem cells are what hold up quite substantial flowers with elegant flexibility they will give her back both her arms, ( two as we see here) and a greater range of movement.  Here we catch sight of Mavis at her weekly occupational therapy class, though she is not quite sure if she will ever really be able such a whiz with the lariat as Miss WW the instructor.

Not a Sky in the Cloud

Cloud-wise the state of about to rain has more vivacity, more variagation, than the uniform water-washed grey of the drizzle or raining kind of sky. Is this presumption too presumptuous? Rain, or so it seems,  brings a kind of anonymity to the sky but  perhaps this overstates the matter and rain only redirects the gaze to more earthy matters.

Wagga - The Sky's the Thing

Easter saw us up stakes and head for edge of the western slopes, the river lands and the architectural embellished 19th century building of the main drag in Wagga Wagga.  The Courthouse clock tower can just been seen from the pavement tables of Mates Gully on Fitzmaurice Street, and beyond that one of the few inclines of Central Wagga, as the street takes it gently up a bit closer to that colossally blue sky.

Render Unto Caesar - The Lure of the Classics

One of the obstacles that Farmer Bart Brassica faces is the stereotyping of country folk as quasi-literate cornshuckers who would prefer to watch for fish  bubbles to  rise up in root beer rather than read a book. As an antidote to such accusations, and in pursuit of the disposable income of the sensitive city-based  new age farmer and literary angler, Bart has devised a deep dark pool of fish and the classics.  As the mix of real fish and books is problematic Bart has come up with  this cocktail of fish substitues and a charred page of The Twelve Caesars. This page came as a bonus with the Caesar Salad he ordered in the Library Cafe when he accidentally ran into Mavis Eggswhistle there for lunch a few weeks back.  That the fish all have red noses that exactly match Bart's bucket is one of life's mysteries.

By the Prickings - Mr Farmhand's Handedness

Seasonal work brings in some strange tasks, perhaps none quite so odd as the harvesting of prickles at Deer Creek. These fine spines on the button cacti are used to create that  eerie feeling of discomfort  so popular in the film industry. These are late season, or B-Grade prickles, which are in great demand by Hollywood for the new vogue in vampire romances.  Rumour has it that some unscrupulous cinemas also add them to seating fabrics, curtains and carpet.

This photograph, by Ms Periz, also highlights Mr Farmhand's disproportionately large hands.  Sometimes he claims he is wearing Mits to protect him, and his hands are really quite petit.  Frank Winkler, whose hands are identical, says, 'Pshaw! How do you think we got the family name of Farmhand in the first place?'

Bumper Crop - Clever Tribal Treble

The Afghan concept gets a new lease of life with this witty crocheted bumper bar cover snapped by a sharp eyed friend in Wagga Wagga. Is this is a car accessory, an art statement, granny gone crazy or a mobile graffitti of the knitta variety?  In any case Bravo to the maker - if this is what they do on their P's I will be watching out for when they get their open license.

Photo Credit and Thanks! to Toby Ellis.

[Apple] - Duke of Lambourne

 This particular apple, from one of 120 heirloom apple trees, in an orchard run by the poet Peter Lach-Newinsky, is, he tells me, a Duke of Lambourne. As I ate it before I had quite finished this sketch I can vouch for its deliciousness, the vivid green centre of both the stalk and blossom ends, the rough dry feel to the skin, the even creamy texture of the flesh, sweet with an airy substance to it, like biting into a concentrated cloud, was just right. Hail the range of apple trees, apples and those who grow them!

Keirle Park - Subtract One Hour

Keirle Park at 6pm Eastern Standard Time, getting towards the middle of April, the sun has dipped below the horizon, and the grass is a patchy brightness from the floodlights. Trying to hurry in the colour before I run out of light, the rugby figures come in as a sketchy late addition.  Like traces, it seemed they were an afterthought, look up again, and they've moved on.

Court of Apple - Tree bears Witness

These eleven varieties of apple, blossom side down, stalk side up are in the identification line-up at the green grocers.  It seems that they have retained the right to remind silent, though I expect when it comes to the crunch, they will.