The evil eye

One of the joys of what I shall euphemistically describe as reaching a certain age is having a doctor tell you that what’s occurred is because you’re old.

I have what he told me is a conjunctival haemorrhage. In other words, I’m safe if, in the next few days, I get into a situation where my opponents have been told not to fire until you see the whites of my eyes. My left eye has next to no white in it, is red, from a burst blood vessel.

& the reason for it? No specific reason, just age, old age — amended to as you grow older after I cast a one-eyed sideswiping glance at the doctor. Just happens, nothing you can take for it, do to it, doesn’t affect your vision. Only wait till it goes away, a series of color transformations, red through to yellow, just like a bruise.

Changeling

The small yellow

flowers brought

down by the rain

have changed the

path into / not a

path. That arti-

ficial transverse

now part of the

tree from which

the flowers fell.

On or off the highway

Able to think in

short phrases only

while long lines of

thought fly by in

the outer lane.

O sole mio

Diva. The word

is so debased

that the young

girl standing out-

side the house

where Maria Callas

used to live, sing-

ing off-key Mariah

Carey songs, has

a better than even

chance of

being called one.

Citric update

Not quite Spring by the calendar, but the temperature is in the high twenties C. — just under 80° F. — & the flowers in the pots under the awning are flush with large scarlet & white blooms. It’s warm enough for the cat to decide to stay out at night.

The citrus trees are threatening to deliver fruit. We’ve had them for about 18 months, & so far their crops have been one lemon, which was on the tree when we bought it, & one grapefruit which we can honestly claim to be our own. But the lime tree currently has lots of small fruit on it, the lemon is in flower & spreads that wonderful perfume, & the grapefruit has pushed out new leaves & has a couple of buds on it.

Mind you, this happened last year as well. Then the ants got active & managed to knock off all the young limes, & then the locusts — huge, some the size of elephants — descended upon the lemon & the grapefruit & turned them into almost skeletons. I think what was left of the lemon’s energy was taken up bringing that single fruit to – I guess I have to use the word – fruition, & that single grapefruit only survived because it grew sufficiently whilst the various armies were busy with the other offerings.

Still, although somebody knocked off the single custard apple from the tree at the bottom of the driveway — a bad growing season for them, not enough humidity in the air — we have got a few mandarins & oranges this year from the other trees in the same area. The fruit reminds me of someone, possibly myself, rough-looking on the outside, but inside, oh so sweet. & juicy.