Springish Winter

It’s a beauteous sunny day in Nairne, in South Australia’s sunny Adelaide Hills.

Beauteous, but I’m not suggesting that it’s warm or anything approaching warm, however I have a jumper and am sitting wearing it with the house’s doors and windows open – Celebrating winter.

A cooling breeze, with “a taste of spring-time on its lips”, has come in playing with my aged whiskers.

Because I am a caring and sharing senior citizen, I am sharing beautiful strains of classical music with the neighbours
(OK – it’s not “classical” per se, but rather Robert Plant [“Pictures At Eleven”]),
but “classical” sounds so much more sophisticated and fitting for an aged and sophisticated gent such as myself (and that album is a classic of its kind.)

I wonder what the poor people are doing?
… probably, like me, they are wondering how to pay both the Council Rates AND the electricity bill both due this month.

Meanwhile
“Down at the station where the trains come in”
… all is well, and time for a (low carb) sandwich and a cup of tea.

Ahhh – nice!

MODERN TIMES – A DAY IN MY PRE-RETIREMENT LIFE

(from my daily notes back then)

Anonymous Young Woman: –

“Why are you putting those signs up in front of the church? – I was going to park there!”

Anonymous Church Pastor: –

“This Morning we have a funeral, and we need this space for the hearse and mourners”

AYW:-

“But I always park here – it’s close to the School and the Coffee Shop!

ACP: –

“Well, I’m sorry, you can’t today – perhaps you’d like to park in the church car park just there.”

AYW:-

“I don’t know why you seem to think you can take over the whole street – I like parking there – it’s convenient!”

ACP:-

“But it is not on the street, it is off the street by the church’s front door, and it is church property – for church use – we don’t mind you parking there on days when we are not using the grounds, but this morning we have a funeral, so we need to use our grounds for that purpose.”

AYW:-

“Well, that is arrogant and grossly unfair! No wonder people are stopping coming to church anymore! … I’ve got rights too you know … I pay my taxes – I am a local … …”

ACP:-

“Calm down, calm down –

Taxes have nothing to do with it, and neither does where you were born. This space is owned by the members of this congregation (and you are not one of them). Sadly, this congregation has a funeral here today.

It is sad and hard time for the family, and we can make it easier for them if we don’t get in their way.

This off-street area is the place where the hearse and the immediate family park their cars …out the front of the church.”

“I have said you are welcome to park in the car park – it’s only 5 metres away – I’ll even open the gate for you.”

AYW:-

“Humph! You can keep your church! “

(stomp … stomp … stomp … brrrrmmmmm ……..)

ACP

“Sigh!”

The Prancing Pony Incident

The Oldster Gang rode into town.
They mosied on into the saloon and fronted the bar.
“Line ’em up, barkeep” they snarled.
A hush fell over the saloon room.
“And a nice little bowl of yummy, nibbly, nutty things too please – if that’s OK with you” the desperadoes added.

THE EXHIBITION THAT WAS

Opening Day – The A.Fox Collective – Amelia, Joy, and Ant.

You know, it takes a lot less time to take down an art exhibition than it does to hang one.

We sold a few pieces, more than enough to cover our direct expenses.
But was there an overall profit?
No, nothing like it.
Of course the experience could be classed as a “profit” even though no money changed hands.
The knowledge that I have sold more paintings in my lifetime than Van Gogh managed has to be priceless!

We took our time over the deconstruction.
We could have driven there in the morning, taken it down, and driven back that evening, but somehow the overnight stay seemed the better option.

Mind you, it was a fairly expensive option.
The hotel room was comfortable and fairly well appointed, but the price was a bit steep for a room in a small country town.
Yes, the room tariff was less than we paid on our last stay in Sydney, but not all that much less.
In Sydney we stayed on the top floor of a tall hotel in the centre of the city, where we had stunning views of high-rises, sunsets, and the road heading to the harbour.
In our small country town hotel, we were up one flight of stairs with a walkway balcony outside our window and a view of the drive through bottle department.
Still, the bed was comfortable, the food in the dining room was OK (if not wonderful), and the wine was great.

The start-of-winter journey there and back was picturesque, through country we love, tinged the faintest of greens by the breaking of the drought.
The wrapped paintings in the back of the wagon muted road noise and any rattles, and the roads were quiet.

It was a good exhibition we are told.
It was fun to set up.
It was a buzz to listen to the praise at the opening.

But … I think I have come to the conclusion that my paintings might be a bit – well … boring.
I’ll work on a new direction for inspiration … perhaps I’ll look back to the 1980s when it almost (almost) felt like I had something.

But for now now, two months after the hanging,
the A.Fox Collective “Abstracted Landscapes” has left the building.

The Lights of the City

This is a little experiment in duotone digital photography.
Image taken yesterday on North Terrace Adelaide,
from the passenger seat of our Skoda using my iPhone via the Filmborn App set to emulate PanF.
Processed at home whilst consuming Yorkshire Gold tea bag tea – currently on sale in our local Foodland Supermarket.

(Don’t say that I don’t supply the details of my artworks! 😉 )

Talking About My Generation

I can’t decide if I’m more Jethro Tull or AC/DC.

I’m probably Too Old to Rock ‘n’ Roll, Too Young to Die,

and these days I might not be able to manage High Voltage Rock and Roll.

…….. So here is a High Contrast Carpark ….

Father and Daughter – Variations on a Theme.

One Day In The Foxian Atelier …. Variations on a Theme

“Landlines”, oil on canvas panel, Ant Fox, and “Landlines 2” woven threads, Amelia Fox.

Guests Just Hop In

It’s typical, isn’t it?
The sun starts to set, the shadows lengthen, and your eye wanders towards the wine and cheese.
Then suddenly, with no prior arrangement, a guest shows up on the front lawn.
… And, what’s more, she’s got her kid with her (albeit all quietly tucked up and asleep).
Really.

ROTTING RODENT RECOLLECTIONS.

I have been thinking about mice. In particular I have been thinking about the scurrying, furry, scrabbling, poo-laden, smelly mouse plague we had a few years ago when we were still living in the old manse in Tanunda, all too near the heavily moused wheat fields and vineyards.

I was so moved by the extravagant mouseness of that month that I wrote a wee poem to celebrate … an ode to Autumness and all its little wonders.
I call it “Autumn”

“Autumn”

Oh to be in Tanunda
Now the season’s changed.
Autumn, the time of wonder
When rodents go deranged.
Autumn, mellow mousy time
They scurry without fear
Perpetrating pantry crime
Eating anything that’s near.
Oh to be in Tanunda
With a mouse in every trap
A time of mellow wonder
Flavoured with mousy crap.