Descent: a downwards movement, bad for a fragile object falling or a fragile person tripping. A good thing if you descend from an airless mountaintop or from worthy ancestors. It’s especially useful if you need an inexpensive system of water delivery, for even in the desert there’s the free pressure of gravity. The photo here is taken in a desert during World War Two, one of the many photos my father brought back from the Middle East. It’s captioned simply “Gravity Tank”, taken in North Africa, probably Egypt, in about 1941.
29th Mar – Spoke to the Housing tenant who was the target of last night’s tirade. He spoke to me politely, without swearing, and was touched that I was interested. The same man once threatened to do terrible things to my head if I called the police about him.
30th Mar – On the back deck there are two spiderwebs, one neat and circular and the other messy like crazy ladders.
31st Mar – This afternoon, two sons worked on serious maths problems while sharing one orange, one slice of fruit toast and one cup of chamomile tea.
1st Apr – Woke at 2.30 am. Still awake at 3.30 am but daylight saving ended at 3 am. At 4 am it was 3 am again. Still awake at 5 am, which was now 4 am. A long night.
2nd Apr – Alone in a gift shop, I heard a beautiful voice singing ‘Somewhere over the rainbow’, and stood still to listen closely. The owner showed me the CD case and told me about Melody Gardot, a prophetic name, as I learnt when I later read her life story.
‘Egyptian graves’ is the caption below this photo in the album my father brought back from Cairo in 1942. There is a contrast between grave styles: some like theirs pyramidal and reaching up to the sky from the open desert, others prefer to stay close to the ground, in the shade of a tree.
P.S. After submitting this photo for the ‘contrast’ challenge, I did some research about the graves in the foreground and responded to Laura’s comment below. I learned that they are in a modern Muslim cemetery built over the site of the quarry where some of the pyramid blocks came from. Since the time of this photo, 70 years ago, a wall has been built around the cemetery, hiding it from pyramid tourists.
I also discovered that the structure on the left of the photo is the pyramid tomb of Queen Khentkawes (c 4th Dynasty) built on top of a cube of rock which remained after blocks had been cut for the larger pyramids.
Several photos in the war album were taken in India, and while there is no caption accompanying this one, I suspect it was in India because bamboo scaffolding is still used there. Would you climb on it? Clearly, it’s flexible.
Pauline Croze has a voice that comforts me; a little bit husky, a little bit of a lisp. She sings clearly and not too fast so I can sing along with her, following the lyrics to practise my French. The jazzy rhythm helps me remember the words; it’s also great for chair dancing. Sometimes I dance on my feet (when no one’s watching).
When I took the photo of this CD cover, an energy-efficient light bulb overhead made her skin too pale. I grabbed a piece of the red organza (see post from 22nd Feb), set the camera timer and held the fabric close to the light bulb. It’s given her a bit of a tan.
I recommend her album even if you don’t speak French.
23rd Feb – Driving in blazing sunlight, I entered a short tunnel and my eyes didn’t adjust. Everything went dark and I had to trust my knowledge of the road for a few seconds.
24th Feb – Discovered that Google makes finding a Justice of the Peace easy. I gave it a suburb and it listed the local JPs in order of distance in metres from my house, though I hadn’t given an exact address. I like the knowledge Google has but I hate it knowing where I am.
25th Feb – This afternoon I read about Shepheard’s Hotel for two hours so I could write a factual paragraph for the Indulge challenge. I began the weekly photo challenges with just pictures in mind; now the writing matters.
26th Feb – A black crow picked up a white cockatoo feather, flew up onto a fence, held the feather under its claw and tore it to shreds, the white scraps catching in the breeze and blowing away.
27th Feb – When I asked a woman in a quilting shop to tell me the difference between cotton and polyester thread, she said, ‘Well, this one’s cotton because it’s cotton. It’s made from cotton.’
Several weeks ago we found a possum in the tool cupboard (see post of 16th Jan). Now there are two.
My father brought some coins back from the Middle East in 1942. I like this one with its Art Nouveau flourishes and the hole in the middle. I hang it by a chain on a wrought iron bedstead.
The “English Bridge” at night: the bridge itself is partly visible if you click to enlarge the photo. The lamppost is on the bridge but the buildings are to its left.
The “English Bridge” in Cairo was also known by its French name, Pont des Anglais. A few decades later it was nicknamed Kobri Badi’a after Madame Badi’a who taught belly dancing in a cabaret near the bridge, and then in the 1950s it was known as Evacuation Bridge for the British who were being chased out of Egypt. Its Egyptian name is Kobri Al Gala’a, or El Gala’a. In the middle of the day, it opened to let the feluccas pass through. See my post of 7th January for a photo of graceful feluccas on the Nile.
Green. Where do I begin? I see it through every window; the yard and gardens are full of it. In my back yard, a fig tree laden with green figs overgrows a garden of zantedeschias and red valerian, both flowerless here, and lemon balm, a relative of mint. Two steps hide beneath the luxuriance but to descend you’d have to break the spider’s web stretched between the fig tree and the rose bush on the right (out of sight). I caught the web this afternoon with the western sun hitting its silken threads. The spider hides inside a rolled leaf thinking she’s invisible because we can’t see her face, but her legs are hanging from the leaf roll. You might have to zoom in.
