I bought a new lens for my camera the other week and I am so happy with it. To be exact it is a "Canon EF 24-105mm f/4.0L IS USM Lens" It rained the first few days after I got it, but finally the sun came out, as did all the spring flowers. I took Ann for a walk up the road.... and did a photo shoot of a kind, and got some smiles. (even though she was not in the best mood)

Close to where we live there is a Traveling Stock Reserve, but it is not used for traveling stock, but is agisted. Still anyone is free to walk and play in there. I have always liked going out into the paddock and exploring or building houses with logs, branches and sticks. When we were little we would go collecting what I called 'moon stone' for I had never seen rocks like that anywhere, they were often a creamy colour, and they had sharp edges with smooth sides. I would carry them back home and put them in my collection. I have no idea what happened to that collection, I can only guess it got chucked in the bin with a lot of other junk, which I probably called precious things, but Mum knew better, except for the rocks. 

I did that tag last month but got tagged back by my lovely cousin Jessica..... obviously I should have changed the rule that allowed it. But I am endeavoring to answer her odd assortment of riddles.... well mostly number 1 and 3... they are decidedly illogical...... But I have answers... of a sort. I have also edited the previous riddle tag post and written in the answers to all the riddles on it.

I have seen a lot of birds this month, and heard many more. I almost got a photo of a pelican flying over, but the sun had just set and I could not get the right settings fast enough, so it disappeared behind the trees and settled on the dam out in the paddock. Rainbow Lorikeets fly over in a flash of colour and squawk and squabble in the gum trees. King Parrots fly down to drink water out of our gutters and stare down at me with their gold rimed eyes, but fly off if I move to fast.... or get my camera.

That title.... well maybe I should have stuck with "Of Photos of flowers" or "Of Flower Photos"... Something does not sound right with it, oh well. I can't be bothered with changing the photo, so concerning photos of flowers.... This is another post where you can see how different my photos are now, to what they were years ago, and read my critiquing of my past self (or past photographs anyway). Although back then I did occasionally fluke onto a photo I still like now. As with the photo heading this post, I took that back in 2007. 

Here is another post of photos for those who wanted to see more photos of the pocket watch. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed taking them.

Many people have read these books and have their own opinions about them, or just heard enough about them to make judgments. People have seen the movies and decided if the books are good or not from them. I have been told many different things about them:

"Every child should read these books"

"These books should be banned, they are evil"

"This is my favourite series ever, you need to read it"

"Oh, no you should not read the Harry potter books."

Having never read or watched anything Harry Potter (at least as far as I can be absolutely sure of doing) I did not like to voice an opinion. But one day, after yet another of these conversations, I decided I would read them so that I could have an informed conversation about them. As it turned out, I like them.

I just wanted to say one thing today, ask one question.


Time 

is a 

Precious Gift

How are you going to use it?

A few days after taking all those photos of books, glasses and keys, (can be found in previous post) I was able to borrow an old pocket watch from a friend. Naturally that entitled another photo shoot of my books and the watch and pieces of the insides, pieces of time....

I don't think to many words are necessary, so I'll just let you soak in the beautifulness of these books. And a few words I have come across, but do not belong to me.

I drove past a house the other day and it inspired me to write, this;

Once this was not a sad little house, I am sure. Once a man, or maybe more, laboured on its foundations. Each wooden slat, cut and placed by loving hands. With joy and laughter, looking forward to a brighter future, this house rose up from the steep hill. Finally the wife arrived, the furniture, and the corrugated iron for the roof. It rumbled up on a slow moving wagon, drawn by a team of oxen, maybe. Maybe they had trudged the tree boarded track up the mountains for days, weeks.

Once, maybe once, the young wife ran up and into her husbands arms,  so glad that they were together again. So glad of the beautiful house, a house of her own, with wooden boards to sweep the dust from. Together they would make this their home, possibly.

As the rain fell, it drummed down on the roof, horrendously noisy, but they sat together, knowing that the house was solid built. It would not blow away, or collapse like a tent of canvas. Maybe soon after that children could have come.

Once they could have leaped off the bottom step and run down the slope, crossing over the fallen tree that bridged the creek, and jumped into their fathers arms as he arrived home. Did he come from taking their cattle to market? Or selling the furs of the animals he trapped? Or from the homestead where The Boss lived? 

Other times the children could have run with buckets down to the bubbling mountain stream and tried to catch the little mosquito fish, that darted through the clear water. Little trousers, or skirts, hoisted high. Maybe muddy little feet ran back up the hill to show Mother their prizes. Or maybe they fished out the fat black tadpoles, and kept them in a jar, watching as they grew legs, squiggly tails shrank and then disappeared. 

Once upon a time, long ago, many things could have happened in and around that happy little house. House of promises, hopes and dreams, once. Now though, it sits a weathered grey. On a hillside, far from anywhere, a dull house rots, silent except for the clatter, bang, and scratch of the rusted iron roofing, that has now come loose. Each gust of wind, pulls at the house, and it succumbs, sinking away, slowly returning to dust, and memories.

What memories it must hold though, if only I could hear it speak. If only the creaks, could, be interpreted, or the language of old things found out. But the people who lived there once, have gone, grown old and died. Maybe the children still live on somewhere, I wonder have they forgotten, the once happy little house on a hill. Or are they no longer, here to be able to remember, have they too passed away. I do not know, but I wonder, what does that sad little house remember?

I recently saw a 'stacking the shelves' post on a blog I follow and thought I would join in. As far as I understand a link up happens each week at Tynga's Reviews. I don't follow her blog or anything so I don't know what exactly the content is or if I agree with reviews and such, (just wanted to make that clear). And all a 'stacking the shelves' post is, is a post about all the new books you/I have acquired! The ones in my post are some of those I got at the annual book fair, which I did a blog post on the other day. 

I have recently acquired a few more books, which could be accounted for by the time of year. At this time of year I get excited and wait and wait to find out which weekend the book fair is on. There are hundreds and hundreds of books there each year and I take a few home. This year I got... only three..... bags full. 

I tend to review books that I like on my blog and keep silent about those that I don't. They all get some kind of review on Goodreads, but maybe I should just say that I definitely don't give glowing reviews to everything. If you are a die hard fan of Jane Austen, then I would suggest that you not read this review, as I gave this book 1 star on Goodreads, which is the lowest you can give.

I was a beta reader for this book and also participated in the cover reveal and now I am reviewing it just before it is released. Those are not the reasons I like this story though. I like it because it is a story of wonder, beauty, heartbreak, healing, a story to remind us that we are not made for this world.

"Deep in a forest glade, the fey folk dance with Isidore, a young human child. Their kinship is the very fabric of her childhood. When her mother dies and her world darkens with sorrow, Isidore finds her belief in the fey folk wavering.

The love of her new step-sister, Blessing, proves an unexpected gift in her time of need. Yet even as their friendship blooms, Isidore begins to see that Blessing is everything she herself has always wanted to be, but is not. Jealousy grips Isidore as she watches this beautiful new sister steal away all she holds dear.

Driven to desperation, Isidore turns to the fey folk once more. She has only one wish to claim from them, one chance to make things right. But she must tread carefully. For wishes, like hearts, are easily broken. And obtaining the one thing she desires could mean destroying the one thing she truly needs."

It wrote most of this post last month and took the photos then, but I had not posted it, because I temporarily lost the photos. Now they are found I have posted this, this month, instead of last month. Though I could have backdated it and posted this post, that belongs to last month, this month, but make it appear to have been posted last month. That would be to confusing though. So here is what I had to say about life in the realm of birds for the month of July.

Along came another tag and I grabbed it as it passed. Sadly the rules did not manage to slip through my fingers, though they were changed a little. I like riddles, probably because I am good at them...well it's true. So thanks to Katie from Sparkly Ambitions I have been tagged. But I must begin.