When you're as great as I am, it's hard to be humble

I think that these are pansies, but remain happy to stand corrected by the more green fingered of you out there in cyberspace. I don’t know if it is purely coincidental or not, but for my money, the loveliest flowers in town happen to sit right outside town hall.

I don't have a lot to say, aside from how much I hope that the Cottage Pie with Cheese-crusted Leeks that is on the go in the oven turns out okay, so I'll say it with more flowers!

Comments

https://obscenedesserts.blogspot.com/ said…

Looks more like a type of primrose to me. Pansies don't have such fleshy leaves. But antipodean pansies might ....

25 August 2008 at 19:43

Julie said…

This is a Polyanthus which was developed for the Austraian climate to help the Poms get over the loss of their beloved Primrose.

25 August 2008 at 22:41

tr3nta said…

NICE PRIMULAS!!!

26 August 2008 at 02:32

USelaine said…

Yup, cultivars of Primroses aka Primulas.

And yup, Polyanthus is another name for them. Nice beds in your photos!

26 August 2008 at 06:54

Debbie Courson Smith said…

How did the dinner turn out?

26 August 2008 at 12:39

Julie said…

In the Wikipaedia link that Elaine supplied, the images 1, 2, 4 & 7 are what I know as Polyanthus ad 3, 5 & 6 are what I know as Primula. I have purple/pink Primula growing at the base of my Wollemi Pine on my front porch as I type. I did not even realise they were related. They have different leaves and different flowers.

26 August 2008 at 18:15

Kris McCracken said…

Thanks everyone for helping me out on this one! I always struggle with flowers. That said, I know what I like, and I like these little suckers!

Boise Diva, the dinner turned out excellently!

27 August 2008 at 15:27

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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