A dad who can't resist ...

My wife and I were unsure how well our daughter had mastered 'the roll' -- until we found her in this position! She started on the mat in the foreground.

Some friends generously gave us a backpack to cart our daughter around in. Last weekend we sand-tested said backpack with a trip to the Sculpture by the Sea event at Cottesloe Beach (highly recommended if you're in Perth and can get there before 23rd March; though, with fifty-plus sculptures, I'd allow a couple of hours). As you can see, the backpack was a hit with both dad and daughter.

An elated dad

In warm-up mode, I'm practising for the real cigars.

Miss Walker

Miss Walker, born 16 Aug. 2008

Probably won't be blogging for a while -- my attention and energies are elsewhere...

Country Clips

Good Friday at my in-laws' farm in Blyth, South Australia:

The old tank had about 10 cms of concrete in its base, the remains of which ended up on the trailer (see above), and the new tank had to be carefully manouevred over my father-in-law's native shrubs (see below); for this we employed the leading-edge technolgy of old tyres, old cushions and dusty carpet squares.

Fairest-and-Best for the day went to fifty-five-year-old Ian Roberts, for his tireless efforts on the sledge-hammer and pole-driver-thingie; Coach's Award to Jeremy Kells, for his valiant and consistent work; and Most Improved (aka come-back-next-year-for-another-crack) to yours truly.

Visitors

A honeyeater has been hovering in our toilet: flying in, flapping about, and, when any mere human enters, refusing to leave. We think he's eating the moths.

Don't panic, Mr H isn't entering through a window to take up residence inside; our toilet is off the back verandah, so he comes in through the wide open door.

One night last week, my wife was on the toilet and H was fluttering above her head. This unsettled her. So, I, clueless yet well-intentioned male (CYWIM, CWIM?), took up a broom and tried to prod and bully H from our facilities. This only agitated him. As soon as I left the toilet and put down my arms, relieved H calmly flew away.

In my 'umble opinion, comic domestic scenes such as these are worthy of a Dickens' novel.

Our new eighty-odd-year-old house

Model supplied by Speers Modelling Agency

The view from our all-terrain driveway

Backyard mid-gardening

Barry bougainvillea after a haircut; this is the back entrance.

Microcosms

I used to think gardening was about old biddies pottering around, but having spent the past weekend with my mum (aka Trojan horse aka The Rose Doctor) I now know better: it is an endurance sport for neither the faint-hearted nor those, like me, who spend their weeks tapping a keyboard.

I also learnt that beneath overgrown garden beds lay vast microcosms. Some of the gems we dug up were:

- 38 hippeastrums (which we re-planted)
- 4 witchetty-grubs (we think they were)
- about 50 legless lizards
- a brown, headless plastic minature giraffe
- part of the femur of a large animal
- a yellow piece of lego
- a black ashtray
- a rust-encrusted bottle-top
- the corner joint of a water-pipe