Rain, glorious rain.
We decided to take the kids to Canberra’s National Museum. Before we drove off, the sky darkened with a promise of great drama to come. They were those kind of clouds, rolling with menace and Helvi’s headache heralded something was in the air. We and the kids were most impressed with the Museum. Everything was askew and at acute angles. In the big theatre we watched with awe Australia’s white history but not before we had also watched in a smaller theatre the history from ‘black fellow’ Australia. This theatre had a revolving stage, fascinating for the kids. At the bigger theatre all went well, with the braveness of soldiers marching off to some war somewhere when also all of a sudden a Qantas Boeing was taking off non-stop to somewhere.. I woke up refreshed.
Driving back, the clouds were black and white hot bolts of lightning flashing and thunderous claps sure made for a promise of water at our farm at Brayton.
Wellingtons for Lightning Protection
It pelted and the rain was drought breaking. I mean, paddocks awash and traffic to a snarl. When arriving home, Helvi checked and the gauge had run over. Empty and fill up again, 32 mls. Another storm, another 26 mls. The thunder and lightning was something to behold. The best for over 5 years. Total tally so far 82mls.
Wollondilly in Action.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Ah ha. Was there ‘something in the air’?
Mud glorious mud ect.
Chicks in boots eh? (that was my own phrase).
You know without The Aboriginal History, Australia wouldn’t have any if they ditched The Monarchy.*
Most Poms that I know, especially back in The UK, are more interested- and less derisory about The Aboriginals tahn some of ‘The Cobbers’ that I have encountered.
Present company excepted.
*That just came into my head. Probably ‘cos of the news about William and The very very very slow drumbeat of the Unleashed mods….Oh so very!
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I love creeks. They touch something in the soul. The other day on my walk there was a creek from one side of the road to the downhill side. Following it back it was flowing down the higher side property’s driveway and across their lawn. Of course it was all due to a burst water main, but still added a missing element to the neighbourhood.
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Who’s a pretty girl in wellies, then? Utility rubber looks good on you H.
Com’on the rain!
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No, it doesn’t. The wellingtons were full of spiders, after all they have been sitting on the verandah for fourteen years without much use. They came in handy though as I had to check the rain gauge every hour or so.
The boys were happy riding their bikes through the puddles, getting wet and dirty and having soo much fun…
I was even happier at the chance to wear my Drizabone coat, umbrellas are for the city.
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Rain, yes I’ve heard about it. Apparently rain is when water falls from the sky. Sounds delightful. Apparently it rains in Adelaide sometimes, apparently. The Murray is dying. Tutu and I would drive to a town called Goolwa. Apparently it’s where the Murray meets the sea, apparently. Yes apparently Goolwa could do with some rain. So could the catchment area apparently. Apparently all that water from the floods isn’t coming to SA apparently because NSW farmers want it apparently. So Goolwa dies, lovely place apparently.
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Hung, I just noticed Gez’ latest picture of the river, it looks like we actually have a river. It’s up at least a meter and rising, enough to put a smile on one’s face, (apparently). 🙂
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Isn’t rain wonderful? ( Apparently)
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Oops forgot 🙂
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I didn’t know you were from Southern Califorina Hung, apparently it doesn’t rain there either.
Seems it never rain in Southern California
Seems I’ve often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California
But girl, don’t they warn ya
It pours man it pours.
Out of work, I’m out of my head
Out of self respect I’m out of bread
I’m under loved I’m under fed
I wanna go home
It never rains in California
But girl don’t they warn ya, it pours, man it pours
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On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound
I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain
La, la …
After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
After three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead
You see I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain
La, la …
After nine days I let the horse run free
‘Cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
there was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with it’s life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love
You see I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain
La, la …
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Well, I went home with the waitress
The way I always do
How was I to know
She was with the Russians, too
I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this
I’m the innocent bystander
Somehow I got stuck
Between the rock and the hard place
And I’m down on my luck
And I’m down on my luck
And I’m down on my luck
Now I’m hiding in Honduras
I’m a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money
The shit has hit the fan
Send lawyers, guns and money
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Well, I went home with the chef
the one with the oily hair,
and the hands smellin’ of garlic…
la, la, la…
now, I’m saying no more,
la, la, la.
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Once I was young and so unsure
I’d try any ill to find a cure
An old man told me
Tried to scold me
‘Whoa, son, don’t wade to deep in Bitter Creek’
(Bitter Creek)
Out where the desert meets the sky
Is where I go when I wanna hide
Oh, peyote (oh,peyote,mm)
She tried to show me
(tried to show me)
You know there ain’t no cause to weep
At Bitter Creek
(Bitter Creek)
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
We’re gonna hit the road for one last time
We can walk right in and steal ’em blind
All that money (all that money,ooh..)
No more runnin’ (no more runnin’)
I can’t wait to see the old man’s face
When I win the race
(Bitter Creek)
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo,
Doo doo doo doo doo
Doo
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Livin’ on the road my friend
Is gonna keep you free and clean
And now you wear your skin like iron
And your breath is hard as kerosene
Weren’t you mamma’s only boy?
Her favorite one it seems
She began to cry when you said
Good-bye, and sank into your dream
Poncho was a bandit boy
His horse was fast as polished steel
He wore his gun outside his pants
For all the honest world to feel
Poncho met his match, you know
On the deserts down in Mexico
Nobody heard his dyin’ words
Oh but that’s the way it goes
All the Federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him slip away
Out of kindness I suppose
Lefty he can’t sing the blues
All night long like he used to
The dust that Poncho bit down South
Ended up in Lefty’s mouth
The day they lay poor Poncho low
Lefty split for Ohio
Where he got the bread to go
There ain’t nobody knows
All the Federales say
We could have had him any day
We only let him slip away
Out of kindness I suppose
The poets tell how Poncho fell
And Lefty’s livin’ in cheap hotels
The desert’s quiet, Cleveland’s cold
And so the story ends we’re told
Poncho needs your prayers, it’s true
Save a few for Lefty too
He only did what he had to do
And now he’s growin’ old
All the Federales say
We could have had him any day
We only let him go so long
Out of kindness I suppose
A few gray Federales say
We could have had him any day
We only let him go so long
Out of kindness I suppose
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Total guess at Willie Nelson …then googled!
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I don’t mind the quiet
Or the lonely nights
I don’t miss the funky attitudes
And I don’t miss the fights
I lie on the couch ’till suppertime
And hunker down and read the Post
And that’s when I remember the things I miss the most:
The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust
The Audi TT
The house on the Vineyard
The house on the gulf coast
These are the things I miss the most
I kinda like frying up
My sad cuisine
Gettin’ in bed and curling up with a girlie magazine
But sometimes in the corner of my eye
I see that adorable ghost
And then ba-boom I remember the things I miss the most
The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust
The comfy Eames chair
The good copper pans
The ’54 Strat
These are the things I miss the most
I had a little birdy friend
By morning she was gone
Birdy good-bye
Birdy bye-bye
I’m learning how to meditate
So far so good
I’m building the Andrea Doria out of balsa wood
The days really don’t last forever
But it’s getting pretty damn close
And that’s when I remember the things I miss the most:
The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust
The Audi TT
The house on the Vineyard
The house on the gulf coast
These are the things I miss the most
Just for you Jules.
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Now here’s something I “didn’t” know.
Being fans of Beat Generation literature, Fagen and Becker named the band after “Steely Dan III from Yokohama,” a strap-on dildo referred to in the William Burroughs novel The Naked Lunch.
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Echoes of “Oliver” pounced in me ‘ead, Gerard, as I read the piece!
Rain, glorious rain!
Hot sausage and mustard!
While we’re in the mood —
Cold jelly and custard!
Pease pudding and saveloys!
What next is the question?
Rich gentlemen have it, boys —
In-di-gestion!
I haven’t been to the Nat’l Museum for many decades now. We must make an effort one day but the last I looked -was it me or was it Mrs At who did the looking?- there was no direct train route from Melb. to Canberra, so it’s almost impossible to get there any other way than by driving, something which is less and less desirable to both of us as our clock of days ticks away.
Buses also give Mrs At motion sickness. Not too happy about airports either but we’ll have to make some effort because I do want to get back there and also wander through the art gallery. I wonder if they still have Cezane’s fabulous blue painting -can one call this a painting?- of Europa and the Bull (the bull, of course, being Zeus so disguised in order to rape Europa). It’s a painting of few and very simple blue lines, if I remember correctly, but the whole picture portrays, at once, a scene of serenity and yet one of brutal violence; a sense of the cruelty of inescapable fate.
Reminds me of another painting, far more complex but which has the same effect. It’s by Bruegel (authorship is controversial) and it’s called “Landscape with the fall of Icaros” where he shows an exquisitely beautiful, serene landscape with a ploughman ploughing his fields blissfully totally unaware of the dire fate of Icaros, who in the deep distance to his right, plunges to his death (because he tried to fly too close to the sun). Bruegel’s only oil painting I believe.
Both are paintings that are much like a symphony where one hears the gentle sounds of peace on one level and those of war on another. This tension of countering forces.
…where was I again? Ah, yes, rain! They’ve promised us a bit here in Melbourne for yesterday and today and I doubt we’ll get to see a single drop for quite a while and I really hate it when I have to water the garden!
Helvi looks relaxed there on that couch with her Wellies!
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The rain was a result of me praying to MY nordic God Thor…
The kids loved the Museum, they have plans to go there again soon. I love the unusual architecture of the building, it’s acttractive to the kids too because it’s kind of playful.
There were many complaints earlier on about the emphasis on the Aboriginal history, and not enough of the white man’s achievements. Ah well, there is always someone complaining whatever is done.
My little complaint is about their cafeteria food, thawed out yesterday’s ham rolls!
We’ll see the French art exibition later on when the little ones go home; I don’t want anyone interrupting my art viewing with their urgent needs to go to the toilet. I used to take my own children to art exibitions without any problems; maybe in those days they did not need to eat and drink so often as the modern day kids.
PS. I’ll have to take on MRS At’s habit and hit Gez on the head each time I see him putting up pics of his family on inter net…
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