Cold, Sneezy, Hot

The first day of not-winter started the same way as the first day of winter - mango and banana smoothie.

Later, when riding my bicycle, I saw some ducklings - my first of the year. The duck parents' reaction to me riding towards them was the opposite of how I felt.

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If you met yourself from the future, what would you ask your future self?
What if they wont tell you anything?

White Men Can Hop

I visited Brewboys Brewery this afternoon for a last day of holiday beer. I brought my latest library checkout, which I had to borrow for obvious reasons.

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I made it through two pints and about 60 pages. Unfortunately I feel like I'm still waiting for the hook.

Little Things

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I shaved today, my first clean chin as a 36 year old, in preparation for what's not coincidentally my first day in the office as a 36 year old tomorrow. This morning I also mowed the lawn for the first time as a 36 year old. Both jobs turned out about as good as each other. The edges need work.

I hit my first three pointer as a 36 year old a couple of weeks ago. Priorities.

Vanessa and I went for a springtime bike ride through the industrial areas of north-west Adelaide today, along with nicer places like the beach, and we inserted a burger on the grass in the middle of twenty-seven kilometres. That was nice.

Speaking of 36, I noticed on the back of our 36 pack of toilet paper that the advertised benefits of this particular brand of coronavirus preventative included the registered trademark "CleanRipple".

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I stared at this and I wondered if this was just marketing spin or if Kleenex had actually spent money on R&D to come up with this technology. That would make for one hell of a patent application to read, or - as I'm more likely to be found doing these days - skim through and pay attention only to the diagrams.

Without my stubble and lawn, I don't feel 36.

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There are a lot of dark times in your average Adelaide winter, and though 2020 wasn't your average winter, it certainly contained its fair share.

But as tends to happen mid-September it feels like one day you wake up and find yourself in a garden full of flowers. For my tulips, literally.

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As the sun rises earlier and earlier in the morning I forced myself out of bed before the end of the golden hour so I could capture a few photos of spring in my garden, as a baseline to tell me how good or bad I got at maintaining this through whatever shit is brought to the world by the next 12 months.

A birch tree branch with early blooms.

The birch waking up slowly.

A bird of paradise flower with a strawberry patch in the background.

A bird of paradise waiting for the strawberries to turn red so it can get trapped under the bird netting.

A hairy dog but on wet grass next to a purple-flowered dutch iris.

Nash inspecting a dutch iris.

Early stage mulberries.

Mulberries to be.

Weeping mulberry tree with the first signs of leaf growth.

A sea of leaves on my lawn, at conception.

And if isn't my old mate peeking through the sprouting canopy.

And, we've reached this point...

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