Merry Christmas (and Happy Holidays) everyone!

"Compliments of the season" to friends and family 

in the US, UK, Australia 

... and in many other places, though the pages of facebook! 

It's Christmas Eve as I write this, and we're settling in for the holidays. It's hot, as you'd expect of South Australia, with the forecast for Christmas Day being 40, or about 106 in "the old money." Summer arrived at last, and came in with a bang.

I'm blogging this in a break during putting together an old-fashioned trifle. But rather than doing full-on Christmas-style catering, which would need the oven to be on for hours, we're doing a sushi and cold-cuts buffet for tonight ... and for tomorrow and Boxing Day we were smart enough to roast the poultry a few days ago, when it was cool. Chicken and duck are done and in the freezer. And for New Year, a certain turkey is still in the freezer, most likely at Aldi, where -- gotta give credit where it's due -- the prices are too good to go past.

So, Christmas Eve in the garden looks something like this: (Top: Bindabella Golden Tiger is blooming right on cue! Middle: Asian Lilies are going absolutely gangbusters this year -- more than 20 blooms, over the space of weeks. Bottom: Zolie on roof patrol, not long before sunrise ... "cat on a cool shingle roof" ...)

And meanwhile, in the house it's all about Christmas trees and what Calvin would call "loot," and lots of good things to eat, and Christmas music and movies ...

...and of course out the hills have burned out to golden brown, the beach is sizzling, and if Santa is wearing that red suit of his, he'll be in the ER before he gets done with Sydney in the wee small hours of tomorrow morning, out time.

I'll borrow a couple of shots from Dave's facebook right here. These were taken with his new phone (or, his new camera that makes calls...), an itsy-bitsy little device in the palm of his hand, that does amazing things at the same time as being shockproof and waterproof! I've just done a couple of tweaks on the color, since the camera favors reds -- obviously, it's geared around selfies, where you want warm skintones...

So there you have it: The Colors of Christmas Eve, South Aussie style.

And from Dave, Mike and myself ... Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, however you like to say it!  Here's hoping 2017 will be a better year for us all.

The art of utterly neglecting a blog

Once upon a time, blogging  was IT. The big IT, the "in thing" that everyone wanted to do because blogging was the way one reached out to people through the medium of writing and snapshots. (And besides, the apps were new and cool.) There are still lovingly-tended blogs out there, which have been around for so many years, they're massive enough to generate their own weather patterns. My all-time favorite, which began in 2005, is Jill Outside -- used to be Arctic Glass, before author Jill Homer left Alaska (which Alaskans call "going outside").  But the art of blogging seems to be waning ...

And I'm becoming the worst offender myself! It's so much easier to click into facebook and slam up a few pictures, tag someone, dash off a couple of notes. Nothing to do but click, post, done, coffee.

It's easy. It's also lazy ... or at the very least one could argue that doing facebook adheres to the Way of Tao, the Watercourse. Which is to say, you take the easiest course (path of least resistance) around or through an obstacle course (life), like a stream of water --

The philosophy is very neat and tidy; but the blog that was such a pleasure a few months ago is barely ticking over now! One is almost inclined to bark, "Shaddap, Chuang Tzu, you hack!" And yet, not ... quite. Because facebook is sooo easy and convenient.

At the same time I do like this blog. It has a sense of coherence and permanence that's entirely missing in the frenetic rush and confusion of facebook. Coming here to write, I don't have 12 people talking to me simultaneously (it's a rare skill, learning to hold 12 coherent conversations at the same time; hairdressers can do it, too) while eight thousand commercials, some laughably inappropriate, interrupt the flow of cute cats, puppies, amazing wildlife, glorious landscapes, hilarious cartoons, Daleks, Captain Picard and crew, Darth Vader, Han Solo  ... not to mention the oddest elderly gent who wears a ludicrous orange wig and prompted me to post two images in protest:

 
And facebook ain't all wine and roses! I got myself called a "burrito brain" when I had the nerve to mention being interested in pre-Vedic Indian philosophies. I've been contacted by some of the strangest people in the known universe, from somewhat weird looking young ladies cutting slices off their own arms with razor blades, to African ministers eager to bring me into their church, to American wannabe servicemen with enormous machine guns, who now live in Kabul are are just dying to be pals with li'l ole me. Who are these people?! What are they?!

I've also met some terrific people on facebook. I've learned a lot, had some good laughs, and I think I'll always "do" facebook (unless President Duck -- I mean Mr. Orange Wig -- manages to "close down" the Internet to save us all from ourselves). But I also want to return to this blog. I liked it. I still do. It's a place where I can THINK, and write something which will still be on the page the next time I look, rather than being chased off the foot of the screen into some apocalyptic limbo by all the cute cats, commercials for poker machines, deals on $60,000 cruises and ... so on.

Blogging is different. It has a philosophy all its own. You just have to make time to sit down and commit to something more substantial than rattling out a few words in a comment before clicking on, and on, to the next, and the next glorious image or hilarious one-line gag, or cute puppy video. One thing about facebook: it seeds and nurtures the grasshopper mind! Which is a slippery slope indeed.

So -- my note to self (not quite a resolution, because it's not quite New Year) is ... slow down, chill out, make time, cogitate, let facebook look after itself for a while. I'm sure it'll be there when I get back, and --

Of course, the inevitable downside to blogging is that almost no one is reading what one writes (insert "LOL" and the mandatory emoticon of giggly face). Well, sure, that's now. Perhaps people will read this blog in future. When one crafts a book, the whole thing is done, finished -- work consuming months or even years -- before one expects it to be read. Another thing about facebook: it seeds and nurtures the mindset of "Now!!!", because if the post you've just written isn't seen/read/liked/shared by your pals in the next 24 hours, it will scroll down into the aforementioned limbo of the apocalypse.

Blogging offers something more permanent. So --

As the man said in the movie, I'll be back. 

Battle axes at twenty paces!

Happy 100th Birthday, Mr. Kirk Douglas ... thank you so much for the memories. You've been with me since 1958 -- even before I entered the world: my Mom went to see The Vikings three days before I was born!

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"This will be a day long remembered," he said. He was right!

December 8, 1977. Sound familiar? It should, to any fan of Star Wars who lives, or lived, in South Australia. What was so special? Well...

Uh huh. You guessed. This was the day Star Wars opened in Adelaide -- a long seven months after it opened in the US. That was the way it happened, way back when. Australia might as we have been -- well, Tattooine. 

The tickets had been booked about ten days in advance and picked up about two days before. They were standing on the mantelpiece, just waiting for opening night ... and this was it. On December 8th, just over 1,000 people formed up at the Hoyts Cinema One, in the Regent Arcade, downtown, and ... the rest is history. 

Many people came in costume, looong before the word "cosplay" was invented. Me? No, but I do even remember what I was wearing that night! It was very hot and humid -- as December can be in our neck of the woods. I was 19, plus a few odd weeks, and a movie romance was about to begin that would follow me through the next four decades...

Being 19, I glommed onto Han Solo, of course. The smuggler, the pirate, the gunfighter -- why wouldn't you? It wasn't a question of "not liking" Luke and Leia (which was pronounced Lee-a at the time, remember?), but more about identifying with the powerful "loose cannon" who was (duh) a somewhat more romantic a figure than a farm hand who'd just made it out of the boonies, and a teenage politician.

Sure enough, it didn't take long before Luke and Leia (soon to be pronounced Lay-a ... and make out of that what you will; and people did) were beefed up into full-on action heroes:

Looking back across the years -- and across so many films -- I realize the original Star Wars (not to be known as A New Hope for some time!) was always my real favorite. The others films were not quite what I'd wanted to see as the saga continued. I confess to being somewhat discumknockerated when Return of the Jedi was framed and packaged for fairly young children. I give you a challenge: watch Hope and Jedi back to back, eyes wide open, and focus on Harrison Ford's performance. In Hope, he's acting to adults. In Jedi, he's acting to children. There's a marked difference in the performances; and you'll forgive me if, as an adult, I prefer the Star Wars we enjoyed before it changed direction and was aimed at kids.

So I'll sign off with a bunch of "Snapshots" from behind the scenes, which conjure the distant days when Star Wars was still so new, even the pronunciations were yet to be nailed down ... much less the circumstances of Luke's father! And I do believe I know what I'll be watching tonight...

Of course, there's more (there's always more!), and of course we saw all the other movies, and bought all the DVDs (and before them, the VHS videos, and in future, very likely the Blue-ray disks!), so...

(Copyright stuff on the images: they belong to Lucasfilm Ltd., or possibly even to Disney, these days. I do NOT own them ... I use them here as a celebration of Star Wars, not for personal gain. Call it free advertising for Rogue One, which is imminent. Don't worry, Walt, I won't send the bill. Now, would I do that?!)

Ker-SPLAT!! Ah, it must be Catmas.

First, there was the Christmas tree in all its six-foot glory:

Then, there was six kilos of feline, known hereabout as The Zolinator. Zolinators can wrestle the tinsel-garland monster to the ground, fight it to the death and win --

But in every such battle one cannot avoid collateral damage. In this case, "Let us sit upon the floor and tell sad stories of the demise of trees..." (Sorry, Will.)

"Crash" is altogether the wrong word. KABLOOEY comes comes. We'll settle for Ker-SPLAT!!! So, what to do next? Well, first --

Gather up all the presents that had been placed under Tree One, and transfer them to Tree Two. add them to the existing stack there, and TRY to build a Zolinator-proof structure, which will keep the furry little monster out of this tree for the next three weeks or so! Then --

Shoot out to the shops and buy a Hobbit-sized tree, just three feet tall, to make a table-top display. From the Zolinator's usual vantage point (the floor) it still looks like the game table, which is exactly what it is. And besides, this Jasmine pine, from Target, can't be climbed. There are no enticing branches, no "inside" to the tree, to draw cats like magnets!

And yes, she's done it before. For the evidence (and the poem!) see this post.

The object was to have something festive, or decorative, in the back of the house where we spend about 85% of our time. The big tree is in the front, since that's where there's space for it ... but you can't see it from the back. So ... deep breath. Let's see how long the tabletop display lasts!

Zolinator: 1. Christmas trees: 0.

The Cat and the Christmas Tree

The tree was tall and prideful of its lights.

The cat was small and mindful of her rights…

A cat is she: to rip and shred and claw

Is what cats do and should do. Wait, there’s more!

When claws and lights and trees and cats combine

A cat (whose lifetimes previously numbered nine)

Becomes the Mighty Hunter. And the tree

Would shed those lights and garlands all, and flee,

Save for the fact it’s plugged in.Curse those lights!

What of the cat? She stands upon her rights:

Up, up the tree, defeat the tinsel snake --

For such delicious mayhem, felines make.

Jen Downes, Christmas 2016

The Orchid Hunters

Rare and fleeting, the wild orchids bloom only once a year, and if you miss them -- well, better luck next time. They're strange, exotic, and they hide in the woods. This is what we were looking for:

The wild "spider orchid," Adelaide Hills, November, 2016

So, nothing daunted, we mounted an expedition, aware that we would do some serious bushwhacking to find these elusive beauties. They don't grown anywhere near the beaten path...

Step one: pack picnic basket and cameras. Step two: actually get out the door! The weather was iffy, the light was not very good -- you see the white sky in the above picture, which shows one of the trails to Upper Waterfall at Belair. It wan't very warm at all, no matter the fact this is November downunder and summer comes in, in a couple of weeks now. So, don't forget the jackets --

Dave the Intrepid Orchid Hunter. 

Even Dave took a jacket and wore it! I think we've thawed those Alaskan bones at last. Lately, he really does seem to feel the chill -- and we live in a part of Australia with a Mediterranean climate, so we can get chilly, though we rarely see frost, and never snow unless you're very high in the hills indeed: altitude.

The trail to Upper Waterfall leads through a small part of Belair National Park. In summer it can be scorchingly hot, and it can be a complete quagmire in winter. This has been the coldest winer, and the wettest, in anyone's memory, so we weren't surprised to wear the jackets the whole time ... but we didn't get rained on. Above left: a selfie of the photographer, on the day, sitting on a rock at the waterfall -- which was dry, save for the tiniest trickle; but the trail in showed several patches of very wet earth, testimony to creek-like torrents that had been flowing until the last few days. We timed this well!  And as for the orchids ... I'm going to stop talking now and let the gallery pictures speak for themselves. Here we go:

Photographing these tiny beauties in a stiff wind was far from easy. They are very small -- for scale, see the shot where Dave is steadying the flower while I get the picture. You're working in macro and super-macro the whole time, and with each gust the flower sways out of your field of focus. You wait for a lull, shoot fast, and shoot a lot, because a lot will often be out of focus as the plant moves. The other challenge is, these flowers have a prominent white area which, in digital cameras, tends to burn right out to harsh, pure white and look quite nasty. Getting around that is ... a challenge.

And orchids weren't the only wild flowers growing along the trail. In fact, Belair has been carpeted in flowers for a couple of months now, and with the cold, wet spring they've lasted much longer than usual, almost into summer:

Back soon with a post about birding ... kookaburras, black-tailed yellow cockatoos, and more.