Of mouse and me

Mum said she didn’t mind Felix coming into her room at night, so I left the hallway door open, but barricaded my bedroom door with the laundry basket and a wedge (it doesn’t quite latch properly) because I can do without being woken by the unmistakeable sounds of Felix with a mouse (or rat).

At 2.30am I was woken abruptly by a mouse running over my elbow. I thought I saw its shadow disappearing behind the basket where I store my woolly mittens and scarves. To hell with burglars and rapists, I threw open the window and french doors and got back under the duvet. Luckily it was a warm night. I thought a bit sympathetically about how light and velvety the wee mouse was. I watched the radio clock count the quarter hours and half hours until falling into uneasy sleep at about 4.30am.

Has it gone out? Why didn’t it take its chance when all doors and windows were open yesterday? Has it decided to take up residence? Which would you choose: a compost heap or a basket full of woolly mittens?

Felix has just come in with that triumphant trot he has when he’s pleased with himself. He’s licking his lips – has he polished it off?

Autumn hydrangeas

In January I posted a photo of my pink hydrangeas ‘as big as your head’. Now, they are sporting their autumn colours. Around the side, there are some green ones.

Last year I dried some hydrangea flowers which won’t win any flower-arranging prizes, but are still good.

Art in the mist

The anemones are beginning to wake up

What a mist there is this morning as I go out to get the paper! It has crept up against the house – even the doormat is damp. The air, thick with humidity, makes it a little hard to breathe. This is Halloween/autumn weather: ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’.

Spiders have spread their webs from one support to another. I imagine them flying, Tarzan-like, from clothes line to bird feeder to pear tree. And their webs are astounding – but hard to photograph. I learn a few things about my camera as I try to capture the awesomeness, such as how to tweak aperture, exposure, and lighting. I experiment with the ‘stage light’ option which, as you might expect, has a dramatic result, but the spiders’ webs disappear. I go back to the default settings.

This web is going on for a metre across
You may be able to see three webs here

There’s no sign of the spiders. Perhaps they are resting after the long hours of painstaking artistry, waiting in crevices somewhere until something is caught in their nets.

Garden centre

That’s a Salad Bar in the background

It wasn’t on my list to go to the garden centre but, somehow, there I was. I particularly liked this display. I bought some flower and vegetable plants.

Here’s Felix inspecting the plants.

I had to go to the hardware store for an obelisk which is high enough. It was 20% off because the tip is bent, and was a wee challenge to fit into the car.

Dinner was based on home grown garden produce. The ironing might get done tomorrow.

Sea Signals

This impressive street art has appeared in the last few weeks on my walking route home along Colombo Street. It is worth pausing to look at it closely to pick up the ‘sea signals’ which concern the artist. Unlike others in the Flare Ōtautahi Street Art Festival, it is like a diagram or a page out of a children’s text book in its representation of a sea theme. It seems to rise out of the wall with shadows and angles and images breaking free of the frame.

I felt uneasy looking at the mural. Partly obscured by the sign on the fence in this photo, a green plastic bag floats to the bottom of the ocean and a piece of litter floats on the surface. The sea life seems to flee from the invading boat which may – or may not – abide by the rules for the size of its catch. It could be about to dredge the depths of the ocean as the depth scale and zones suggest. Even though the vessel looks harmless enough with its clean bright lines, it is sneaking into the scene with a shadow beneath it. It might be a boat for scientific research or fishing: marlin is a prized trophy catch as this one knows (thanks, Ernest Hemingway). Whatever the case, the boat represents human intrusion and all that implies.