rix_scaedu

And this is what I did with my last two Mondays. It's meant to be a table cloth but I don't think I'll use it for that. I also think it needs a two layer border to finish it off.

For those who are interested, we used 39 5" squares from a charm pack and I bought a metre of background fabric but didn't use all of it (the store had a buy one metre, get one metre free deal on, so it was actually economical for me to get the whole metre.



P.S. This is a very bad photo.

I know there are places where honey bee populations are collapsing. I'm also sure that I've seen other types of bee in my backyard on occasion. (Please keep in mind that I live on a different continent to many of you.)

In my backyard there is a himalayan ash tree. It's planted around here as a street tree and generally, in that situation, grows to about six foot tall and is sort of round. However if, as in my garden, they are protected from the west and have a cool, damp root run, then they get considerably taller.

At the moment they are flowering. Each flower is a tiny, insignificant uninteresting thing but they're produced in branch-bending quantities. They don't look like they'd have much to offer in the way of nectar or pollen.

So, the tree in my backyard is in bloom and the lowest flowers are about ten feet over my head. There are so many bees in that tree that I can hear it buzzing...

Hi out there anyone who might be trying to contact me through comments.

My lovely new computer won't start up and thus I cannot access my normal email account.  I am not deliberately ignoring people, I just don't have access to my notifications.

I will keep checking here for comments and I hope (crossing all possible appendages for luck) that I might have my computer back for the weekend.

Rix

Tonight I went to my son's Year 12 formal - for my US and, possibly, North American friends generally, this very similar to what I believe a senior prom to be.  (Yes, parents present.  I know.  Didn't happen in my day.  We were dropped off and picked up and parents didn't darken the threshold.  We also had it in the school hall, not a hired venue, and I bet the catering rules have changed.  I suspect that inviting parents and getting them to pay for tickets means you get economies of scale on meals and you get in enough money to afford the venue, etc.)

A fun award was given to each student by the students.  My son's was 'Most Comprehensive Gaming Knowledge."  "Most Likely To Wind Up In Gaol" was a boy.  "Most Likely To Be A Crimelord" and "Most Likely To Achieve World Domination" were both girls.  "Most Likely To Be Slapped" was a boy.  You may find the girl voted "Most Likely To Write A Novel And Kill All The Protagonists" more interesting...

Weirdness - a lump on my son's back has just yielded what looks like a small mollusc shell.  We are assuming that this entered his body through a cut or a graze years ago, but no-one remembers an injury at the beach that could have permitted this.

Question:  I am planning to post a 12,400 story in easily digestable segments of 1,500 to 2,000 words.  How often should I put these up?
All at once?
One a day?
Other?
Advice please!

Today my mother is attending the funeral of a friend's nine year old grandson.

He was trying to return a toy his four year old sister had taken out of a doctor's surgery when he ran out from between two parked cars and was hit by a bus.  Witnesses heard his mother call out "Wait!' but obviously he didn't.  The bus driver had no chance to avoid him and it is reported that the entire length of the bus passed over him.  This event was witnessed by by his mother, one of his grandmothers, and both his younger sisters.  His year old baby brother was also present but at that age I hope he has no comprehension of what occurred.  Staff, including doctors, from the surgery came to help but his injuries were too severe.

If you do not belong to a tradition that prays for the dead, please give space in your prayerful thoughts to his mother, grandmother, younger sisters, the bus driver, his half dozen passengers and the driver of the car immediately behind the bus.  All of these people saw, heard and felt something horrible they could do nothing about.  My mother's friend told her that it was like a film of the event is playing over and over in her head.

I can only hope that time will heal these wounds a little.