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Sunday, 4 December 2016

4 Seasons

Sherry, sherry baby
Walk like a man
Big Girls Don't Cry
Oh what a night!

I sometimes wondered, in an alternative cartoon universe, being in a singing group which consists of three altos and a falsetto. One of the vocalists would be my cat Socks singing Bee Gees style. I am not sure how this would work but it would be kind of like Jackson 5ive because even they were a cartoon. We would sing the above songs and would become really popular stand ins for the real 4 Seasons who are now too old to play live gigs.

I digress. It has just poured with rain and then it's sunny and hot again so really Auckland weather has been acting strange again. Last week it was cold and windy. So we have 4 seasons here but usually in the space of a day or week instead. This used to drive me nuts but I have gotten used to it plus having different outfits each day helps. So what if I'm wearing my puffer jacket with shorts, the weather can't make up its mind. When it's cloudy I lie down with a headache as my brain thinks...no blue sky, God can't see me and doesn't mind if I have a rest. He doesn't want to bother with Auckland today.

In between spells of seasonal affective disorder which I have disguised as manic gardening, I have been thinking of this quiet garden movement which I'm not really meant to publicise or talk about, since the whole thing is people quietly gardening so people don't even notice. This would be nice because I am so sick of lawnmowers and chainsaws and leafblowers and hedge trimmers and other noisy accoutrements of modern day gardening i.e trim everything like its a barbershop. Maybe its just a guy thing that everything should be shorn and they are just extending it out to grassland and trees.

Well my garden is meant to be au naturel. It maybe the difference between the barbers and the hairdressers, really, but I feel that in gardening everyone tends to think its the barbers that are the gardeners when actually the barbers just have no style and are lazy and its the hairdressing gardeners who are the wildly creative ones. The problem of being a wildly creative person is when someone says you can't do something and tries to stick you into a barbershop job or worse... suggests look just work in an office. Stop being so wildly creative. Stop dreaming and pay your taxes like everyone else does.  Arrrrrgh.