There was an enormous Westringia in the front garden, taller than me but just long, bare sticks with leaves only on the ends. Underneath it was this azalea, little more than a twig with a few miniature leaves and a few miniature blooms each spring. I sawed down and pulled out the Westringia during this last year. This is how an azalea says 'thank you'.
Everything is coming into flower.
Especially the white irises. I trimmed Graham Thomas near the verandah post this winter. Very badly, I think.
White iris and white daisy. And white Icebergs which haven't had a winter haircut, because I don't know how to do it properly.
I caught a slow train to the city yesterday and met my sister there. We went to the State Library to an exhibition called Life Interrupted, a display of diaries and journals written by soldiers and nurses during the First World War.
A lot were in cases opened at pages for you to read. The remainder were displayed on this wall. They ranged from leather bound, monogrammed volumes to tatty writing pads held together with string. Such a variety, but the overall mood of the writing inside them was one of dread.
So nice to walk through Hyde Park on a lovely sunny spring day and down along Macquarie Street where the buildings are such an eclectic mix of styles. I hadn't been through St James Station for so, so long and I ended up catching my train home there. In this age of modernising everything, there's something to be said for leaving well alone.