Spring

Ah spring in Hobart; how can you possibly not have a great day when the first thing you see in the morning, just as the sun is making its way over Opossum Bay is this lovely visitor on your back deck.  A heron, I am reliably informed.  Very happy that the animals of the house were not around to bid it welcome.

Although they are such sooks I think they would have run away, as the bird was bigger than they are.  After that it was down to the garden for some carrots to go in my juice (day 2 of a half-assed detox before Christmas - but I feel better for it!)

I am still as excited as a child being able to pull things from my own vege patch.  Having come from Queensland where nothing grows without constant water, coddling and probably regular conversation a la Prince Charles and his plants, it is a joy to almost ignore parts of the garden and still have them prosper. 

So in the spirit of recapturing the chick I referred to in my last post, and buoyed by brilliant sunshne reflecting off the water, I pulled out one of my prettiest blouses from Tory Burch, 80's style pussy cat bow and all, to wear to the Governmentorium, together with standard issue black pants #17.

And I did my toenails even though I then hid them in my Dorothy shoes.  It's a start!