Ants

  Today was an ideal day for gardening even though it was very windy for some hours. There's nothing better than getting close to the soil. Handling luscious weeds of all shapes and sizes is interesting and the myriad shades of green quite fascinating. I watched black garden ants working away in the flower bed and recalled a time when I planted a large area of our garden with wild flower seeds. These had been sent over by a friend in Ireland and I hoped they'd naturalize among native plants.

   I dug and hoed, rolled and raked to prepare an ideal area for my wild flower seeds. The job took a long time and care. The bag was filled with a mixed variety of seeds including fragrant varieties. I didn't want these to grow into a clump here and a clump there. I hoped for a fairly even looking result. There was no wind to speak of at the time and I didn't have to worry about the seeds being blown away. Birds were a concern and to detract them I bought a few Chinese wind, wand like objects to frighten them away.

   The resulting patch could feature in a garden magazine and I was pleased. Next morning I couldn't wait to visit my new seed bed. Taking the watering can along I tripped lightly (well maybe not so lightly) for a viewing. Imagine my amazement on seeing the entire area in motion Was I suffering from vertigo? On closer inspection I realized that a mighty army of ants was at work. Mesmerized I watched while ants in formation worked like army battalions on maneuvers. They continued without audible signals and didn't stop for a coffee break.

   That morning with the aid of a magnifying glass I saw cooperation, strategy and purpose beyond compare. The ants worked in relays back and forth, disappearing down under and surfacing again. What were they doing with my seeds? Were they feeding the queen, the baby ants and all their relatives and friends. Hundreds of seeds vanished slowly but surely while I awaited an explosion from underground -- surely they couldn't consume so much without repercussions?

   On the other hand I knew that ants tunnel underground. Perhaps they were taking the seeds to another location? Is there an underground labyrinth beneath the soil where my ants can recline in scented splendor? Many gardeners consider ants as pests and some can be such as the leaf cutter and the red ants who bite your ankles while you weed!

   I expect my wild Irish flowers to bloom in Crete someday and will continue to search for new flowers among the usual spring display. There is a saying sometimes quoted, 'observe the ant and be wise.'
I'll do this.

I have to do some digging, clipping and cutting for my new book. Back to the musings of mawsie maw in about two weeks.

Stay well and happy.

                               

                                 

Spike

A long time ago my father got a message to collect a crate from the bus stop. He had no idea what this was all about. We no longer lived on a farm so it wasn't a crate of day old chicks, apples, or raspberry canes. The 'bus stop' was the pub in the town and when daddy got there the manager told him that there was a cat in the box. 'It's come from the Isle of Man,' he laughed. 'and the first thing that's come from there, wherever it is.'
My father told him that oddly enough his great grandfather came from the Isle of Man. He looked into the crate then and a little cat stared back. He brought it home and had words with my younger brother who had ordered the cat in the first place.
Very soon 'Spike' named in honor of my brother's idol Spike Milligan, became a big lad. Being a typical pure Manx cat breed he didn't have a tail, just a little button which intrigued everyone. In our house he loved to run up and down the piano keys when the lid was left open. Usually he slept in a basket on top of a wardrobe in my brother's room. Each morning he head butted every bedroom door to awaken the household. If the usual call didn't come we feared that Spike had spent a night on the tiles.
His nocturnal adventures often resulted in a phone call from the Garda Station asking Daddy to collect his cat who had been causing a disturbance. Daddy, mortified and embarrassed would drive home with Spike glaring at all and sundry from the back window of the car. 'Spike is not my cat,' he'd protest before telling my brother to 'put manners on him.'
Spike and manners didn't go together. He destroyed flowers in the gardens of our neighbors

stole fish from the shop -- although he was well fed, and chased any child he saw eating an ice cream. Spike loved ice cream and would happily lap up  a cone or wafer dropped by a child he'd chased. His legacy is the number of tailless kittens being born today in our town.

Some time after the loss of Spike I lined up with other Spike Milligan fans outside a Dublin bookshop. I wanted a signed copy of his book for my husband. When I reached the desk where Spike was signing his latest volume I told him about his feline namesake.
 'We had a Manx cat named after you Spike,' I said. 'And would you believe that kittens without tails are being born in our town even now.'
'My oh my,' he replied. 'Would that I could have been so prolific!'

Ellie, come home.

   I've heard about writer's block. It's a malaise suffered by real writers and can be quite debilitating.
Am I a real writer? I must be because I've lost the plot! What to do next is beyond me. Ellie, the main character in a Place in the Choir and in the sequel I'm writing is gone. I can't see her, I can't hear her, I can't urge her forward anymore. There's no situation in my mind this minute where I can place her -- but she will do things her way eventually. Perhaps I'll find another character lurking about who will encourage her -- show her another side of life. Such an intervention when it happens will move the plot forward. Watch this space!
 
   If you want to know about Ellie and her life experiences so far you could look on Amazon eBook publications for the revised version of A Place in the Choir. It is available for download on Kindle (worldwide) or by availing of a Kindle App for tablet, laptop or other E reader device. Readers who enjoyed the original paperback edition of the book have told me that the revised version is well worth downloading especially for chapter ten which differs very much in content from the original.

Clean Monday

In the Orthodox Church the period of Lenten fasting begins on Clean Monday (Kathari Deftera). From this day until Easter (Pasca) no meat, poultry, eggs or fish with a back bone is eaten by those who follow the strict fast. Wine and Oil may be taken on Saturday and Sunday and on important feast days which fall on a weekday.

On Clean Monday the entire family goes out together for a picnic if the weather is favorable or they may eat at home with relatives and friends. Food for this day may include:

Boiled or grilled octopus
Boiled lobsters, prawns or crabs with oil and lemon sauce
Steamed mussels
Small fried squid
Giant dried beans in tomato sauce
Stuffed squid
Fish roe salad
Fave (lentil puree)
Horta (wild greens)
Spring Onions
Radishes
Artichoke salad
Spinach pies
Halva                               From:   Food of the Gods   Jill Santorinio - Santorinaki

   On Clean Monday children and adults too fly kites . To see these homemade or commercially produced colorful objects floating overhead is inspiring. Historically kites have have been around for 3,000 years. They may represent national pride, history, independence and religion. The high spirits of the kite handlers is reflected in the expressions of those who watch. In the countrysides kites are flown from the hillsides and the sky around becomes filled with colored hexagons each sporting a tail. Many Cretans fly kites along the beaches too and there is much laughter when children call for help from an adult. Kites can get out of control and in so doing are in danger of being lost to the wind. Excited dogs chase their masters not knowing that what they are seeking has become airborne. It's comical to see an observant dog stand on his hind legs to bark furiously at a disappearing kite. The Greek kite is hexagonal and are often made at home. Kite shaped kites as we remember them were unknown in Greece until recently. Nowadays kites are works of art and can be constructed from an assortment of fabrics and decorated and shaped by the individual designer,

A very special time

The rain has ceased, the sun is shining, the wild flowers look bright and fresh, snow gleams on the mountains and in the village preparations are being made for Carnival.

This is a very special time in Greece and in large cities such as Rethymnon on the island of Crete. Here treasure hunts, children's parties, musical recitals and fancy dress cycling events are organised for three weeks before and on the last day before Lent. In smaller villages lesser celebrations happen which are very entertaining for the local people. The nearest Carnival to our home in Crete will be in the beautiful seaside town of Kalyves.

Already children can be seen walking around the streets in lovely costumes, tavernas have hung decorations to add an air of jollity to the occasion and in yards and open spaces exotic floats are being painted and music rehearsed in preparation for the big parade on Sunday, February 21. The excitement of the carnival period brings people together to chat and to eat while watching their children and young people masquerading as popular heroes, fairies, clowns and incredible creatures.

Carnival   Kalyves 

Painting by Balsam Wood

sea scapes

Yesterday we drove to the city of Chania. It was bitterly cold and we'd had hailstones during the night. On a road above the sea we could see white horses bobbing over the waves and in another place huge rollers crashing onto a beach.

But most intriguing of all were the patterns formed by the sea below a high ridge. I looked down and for a moment imagined I was seeing lace edged fabric floating on the water. These patterns fluttered over patches of turquoise, dark blue and here and there an almost purple sea. They rolled and curled until they looked like great bales of material which tumbled forwards to unwind and rewind before rushing back to sea. Within the folds I thought I glimpsed the faces of people sailing in sea weed boats.

On our return journey the sea was rough and dark. The images I'd seen or imagined I'd seen had
vanished forever.

(wallpapers)

Hailstones in Crete

   This morning hailstones bounced off car windscreens as another phase of bad weather hit the island of Crete.
   Layers of immaculate snow covered the white mountains during the night while thunder rolled and lightning crashed over the valleys.
   Huge waves rolled forward and these forced by unrelenting mighty winds lashed the ports of Chania, Rethymnon and Iraklion.
   Tourist Resorts were battered and tables and chairs which were in place following a few day of sunshine last week were carried out to sea.
   The Plateia are empty today and the windows of the Kaffenions misted over. Indoors the wood burner beckons, cold hands are warmed and homemade soup defies today's temperature of 5 degrees.