Flash Garden

So I was trying out my nifty new Kodak Easyshare C763:












and I must say, I don't think it's as good as my trusty old mobile phone camera, which dished up such sentimental delights as this (which I like) and these (which are blurry, but hey, it's a stupid phone camera).

For instance, I can't figure out how to turn off the flash, and, as my Guru-On-All-Things-Arty ( Bronzewing Dove) says, nothing ruins a good photo like flashlight. It even flashes outside, in the broad daylight. Thoroughly indecent.

And such is my laziness, or stubbornness, or both, that I did bother to get the model number right, and upload a picture of the stupid thing, in the hope of eliciting good advice from a passing blog-reader, rather than simply google-up some instructions as to how to switch off the flash.

I believe that a really clever person only reads the instructions when All Else Fails, with All Else including grumbling about the lack-of-right-tools/ dodgy-overseas-workmanship/ poor-eyesight/ other-people-moving-my-things until someone offers up a helpful solution to which the really clever person will appear to already be putting into place, of their own brilliance, before the words have left the helper's mouth, thereby allowing the really clever person to look at the helper distractedly and say "Look, I'm a bit busy here, do you mind just going and putting on the kettle for me?"

Nevertheless, I have been prowling around the backyard, stupid-flash-happy camera in hand, preparing a lovely sample of garden shots. I'm thinking of creating a new category in the Garden of the Year Competition, something to do with Most Artistically Neglected.


This, you see, is a fence. Also a tree stump.

I like to think of my garden as a Secret garden.

Secret Fence.

Secret Tree Stump.







We also have a Secret Patio. It used to be hidden under a passionfruit vine. Now the passionfruit vine crawls the vastly unreachable heights of the neighbour's peppermint tree, and a feral gooseberry bush has assumed responsibility for hiding the patio.










This is the Secret Entrance where the shiteful neighbourhood cat gets in to compensatedly spray anything within range of it's very tiny penis.


















This is where we hide old engine parts and the back fence.




















This is where we hide chairs.


















And so on, and so forth.