or
Ever Decreasing Rectangles
Turn my back for two weeks and this is what happens.
If I were ever to have a coat of arms, it would be crossed scythes on a field of green rampant. I was once asked by my neighbours (aka the Locusts) whether I would mind very much if they were to hop across and chop down the acacias and pines at the bottom of our garden. The rationale behind this being that they cast a shadow across their garden in the late afternoon, thus reducing their annual onion yield by about 3 kilos. My response was to plant acorns in the hope that the curse of the late afternoon shadow, pictured below, would be visited upon the children of their children's children. You gotta love 'em.
The death toll amongst the indiginous population was probably approaching astronomical proportions but several lizards were seen skinking away from the blades and a few of the more slow moving inhabitants also made good their escape.
A refugee.
Rain stops play.
I occasionally suffer from delusions, testosterone fuelled no doubt, that I am capable of providing for my family by the fruits of my labours alone. Above are two results of this; one reasonable - the kennel, and the other risible - the fence and gate.
At least this job's a good 'un.
And to think, the fact that it had a huge tract of land at the back was one of the reasons I bought the original house. Maybe I had visions of a tennis court and an outdoor swimming pool and sauna complex. I was allowing myself to be carried some distance away from fiscal realities, that much is certain. Speaking of which, as we are still a two and a half car family...
...any offers?
Oh, well. Next week, we'll be taking up the ancient and noble art of fencing.
I can't wait.
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