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

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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