Diwali

This week I had the fun of creating a Diwali display for the library I work for. Here is Mona, our mannequin, in my sari, draped with the aid of several youTube tutorials. I've pinned the sari up in critical spots, unlike real sari-draping professionals who just tuck the sari in, but I think she looks nice. She looks better than I do, because I am somewhat stout and look more like a bolster in the sari than a graceful woman. The sari was bought in India, in a loft warehouse presided over by a rather greasy-looking dude with permed hair. There were hundreds of sarees there, all second hand but still beautiful. This one I particularly liked as it has a heavy, silky fall that drapes very nicely, unlike cotton or chiffon that tend to bunch a bit if you don't get them right.

Diwali is the Indian festival of lights, celebrating the victory of good over evil, light over darkness and knowledge over ignorance. There are several legends about the origin of the Diwali festival. Probably the best known is that it celebrates the return of Rama, Sita and Lakshman to their home city after a long period of exile. To welcome them, every house was lit with burning lamps, hence the close association of the festival with the symbol of the lighted lamp. 

Like many festivals around the world, Diwali is a time for cleaning and renewal, buying new clothing and redecorating and cleaning the house. I've been doing a lot of spring-cleaning too, dusting, polishing, turning out cupboards and drawers, and sending things to the Sallies and the numerous fairs we have at this time of year. I find it hard to throw things out; I was raised by a mother who had been through the Depression and the London Blitz, and she liked to keep things "just in case we need them sometime in the future". I understand this thinking all too well, and always worry that I will find a use for something just after I've got rid of it. I did once throw out a milk jug that Mum subsequently decided she needed; happily, we were able to buy it back from the church white elephant stall a few days later. I still have it, now it probably will stay with me forever!

Artichokes

This is my artichoke plant this year. Last year I had two small chokes but this year two big ones and five little ones. They take some time to process for cooking, but I will try them when I know I'm not going out anywhere the next day. The first and only time I had them (in Italy) they created a mighty wind overnight! The plant has become something of a villain, a big aggressive thing that overshadows everything else in this bed, so I'll have to cut it back after harvesting if the dahlias underneath it are to have any chance of surviving. I love the colours of the chokes; green and purple are very attractive. It's interesting how beautiful vegetables are. Think of carrots, aubergines and tomatoes, even the humble onion is a work of art. The tomato seeds I planted have germinated, but the heritage "Purple Calabash" is incredibly slow-growing, I hope to see some fruit from it by the end of the summer.

We've had terrible gale-force winds from every part of the compass over the last fortnight. My garden is very sheltered, but even here some of the climbing roses have been torn off the wall and lily-stems broken off. I had to go next door and fix the fence I share with my neighbour, as the pieces of corrugated iron were coming loose and banging like the devil. He wasn't home, so I made the repairs anyway. Having a hammer in my hand makes me feel very powerful and Rosie-the-Riveterish. Woman can, woman do!

More tulips and a rant

Gorgeous tulips in the front garden at the moment. I really like the bright orange with the bright green of the hellebores. These tulips are "Temple's Favourite". This is the best bit of this bed, the other end is a bit bare and weedy, waiting to be infilled with foliage of dahlias and roses and assorted underplantings.
   We've had terrible winds here the last few days which have played havoc with power lines and trees. Just sitting here a half and hour ago and a huge gust blew my aging and warped front door open. The door has warped so much from dry rot and many hot summers that the lock was only barely engaging. Now it doesn't engage at all, so I've wedged it closed with bits of wood. Fortunately, there is another door into the house inside this one (it's really the front porch door) which is much more secure. So - more expense.
    What really pisses me off is that yesterday when I was out the Jehovah's Witnesses dropped by and pushed a pamphlet through the crack at the side of the door. I'll bet they hammered on the door too, probably causing it to lose its last connection with the lock. Everybody who comes here to beg for money or my conversion seems to hammer on the front door; there is a bell there, but few people seem to have the wit to see it. One guy hammered so hard on it I thought he was the police. Coming at  night this was quite frightening and I told him so in no uncertain terms. 
    Why do they have to come at all? It's ALWAYS some kind of something that I want nothing to do with - donating to charity, signing up for some silly broadband or TV scheme or religious nutters. I notice that no one comes round to give me money, or anything, for that matter, unless you count the religious nutters who want to give me salvation and the life everlasting. Do I go round to their houses with my nutty religious ideas? No, I wouldn't have the affrontery. They are so certain that they, and only they, are right. So far I have resisted getting one of those notices that says, in effect, bog off, deeming it unfriendly, but really I think I'll have to.
       Funny thing about the Jehovah tribe too, is that they only go door to door on fine, sunny days. I find this strange; I would have thought it more of a test of faith to go out on miserable wet and cold and windy days. 
        My ex-husband used to call them Jehovah's Witless. I'm sure if I wanted to become one I would have the wit to find out where my local church is and go along. 
       They really don't have to come to my place and break my bloody door down.

'Verona' tulips

Tulips and Iceland poppies. 

Christchurch Botanic Gardens

I made a quick visit to the Christchurch Botanic Gardens today, quick because it wasn't very warm. Typical spring weather, fits and starts of sun and cloud. It's been cold and damp for the last week, so I thought I'd go and see the daffs this afternoon. "Going to see the daffs" is something of a tradition here in Christchurch, it means that spring is really here (no matter how cold and wet it can be).

This is one of my interpretation boards that I put together when I worked at the gardens. Glad to see it still on site, so much is changed in the city.

This is a New Zealand native plant called Kaka Beak, because the shape of the flower is like the beak of one of our native parrots, the kaka.  It's probably the most spectacular of our native flowers, which are usually small and white.

The daffodil lawns under deciduous trees

And my interp. board for the daffodil woodland is also still there. Good to see that my hard work remains in place.

Feast of non-fiction

In the last few weeks, I've been reading some great non-fiction. I've pretty much given up on fiction now, except for historical fiction; the stories are often trite and/or depressing. Real life is weirder and wilder. The first book I'm going to recommend is one I don't have a cover photo of, since I've returned it - it has a lot of people waiting for it. "The Oregon trail" by Rinker Buck is a great mix of true-life challenge, when the author decides to re-travel and re-discover the trail taken by the pioneers from Kansas to Oregon, and history. He makes detours into all sorts of areas, from the breeding of the mule to the modern myth-making of the trail,especially by the Mormon historians. His brother Nick, a rip-shit or bust kind of guy, and a very experienced teamster, comes along as Trail Hand, and part of the enjoyment of this book is the contrast between the characters of the risk-taking Nick and the more careful urbanite Rinker.

"The devil in the White City" is about the Chicago World's Fair of 1893, and the extraordinary difficulties of building this "White City" on the shores of Lake Michigan. Along with the main story is another story, of the mass-murderer H. H. Holmes and his sinister plans for practically everyone he came in contact with.

I haven't read the rest of these books yet, but they all seem promising.

What was Muhammad the man really like? What inspired him to become the first Muslim and the founder of one of the world's greatest religions and cultures?

When Tara Austen Weaver buys a run-down property, she begins a story of rehabilitation and renewal that will enrich the lives of her whole family. 

After having watched the movie "Queen Margot" this attracted me - the story of the relationship between mother-and-daughter queens.

"Courtiers - the secret history of Kensington Palace" - hopefully lots of arcane eighteenth century historical bits here

Written by the head gardener at Versailles - historical and gardening themes - should be interesting.

And no doubt this will start off another trip to Italy!

More spring

'Verona' tulip

Omphalodes

Nectarine blossom

Thomas - magnificent!