f. My grandmother's journal (non-fiction) - Pt 6

 

The Great War ended in November 1918, however it was another year before the last of the Australian soldiers, now affectionately known as 'diggers', returned home from overseas. Sixty thousand of them had been killed and three times that number were seriously injured. It had all been so much worse than anyone could have imagined.  Yet, Hilda's prayers were answered when Walter, her twin brother, finally managed to come home safely.

Hilda and her older sister, Annie, waited for Walter at the Adelaide Railway Station on his return in 1919.  They both took the day off work.  Hilda from her nursing job in General Practice with Dr Violet Plummer; and Annie from her teaching post in a private Secondary-school. They each wore their best dresses: modern, drop-waisted cotton frocks reaching above their ankles.  The new styles followed the American fashions - more comfortable and practical for the hot Australian climate than the previously worn heavy and constrictive British fashions. Wide brimmed hats and low-heeled comfortable shoes finished each of their ensembles.

Hilda could hardly breath as the train pulled into the station.  She felt like it was all a dream. Her heart pounded and her legs felt weak. She hadn't allowed herself to imagine Walter's return - in case somehow that brought him bad luck. It might be too presumptuous.  Tempt fate. Instead, she'd existed one day at a time and prayed every night, and many mornings as well, for his safe return. And now ... after all the letters and all the years ... the wait to be together again was almost at an end.  

The brakes of the train screamed as the engine came to grinding halt.  Steam blasted over the platform before the doors of the carriages opened.  Crowds of passengers streamed out. A mass of people moving in every direction. So many soldiers wearing khaki. So many injured among them:  Frail.  Hobbling on crutches, or limping with walking-sticks. Some with vacant expressions: still off at the Front, possibly, with their dead mates; in distant battlefields ... so difficult to completely leave.  Those soldiers seemed to wander without much direction. 

Finally, through her tears, Hilda saw a tall figure striding towards her:  His duffle bag slung over a shoulder, his tunic buttoned high on his neck, his breeches pulled in at the calves, and his slouch hat covering his auburn hair. His arms were outstretched to his sisters and his smile was like sunshine. Without any words Hilda ran to him and they embraced. He was real. He had come home at last.  Annie joined the embrace.  Three siblings together.  No war would ever pull them apart again.

A few days after his return to Adelaide, Walter caught another train home to Bow Hill in the Murray mallee.  Waiting for him there were his parents, Nils and Margaret, and many of the locals from the area who were  thrilled that another one of their 'boys' had come home. 

So many of the young men in the district had been killed in the war.  So many of the local 'boys' would never step off the train at the Karoonda station. Their bodies would stay in battlefields or distant cemeteries so far across the oceans that their families would never get to see their tombstones - if they had one.  However, the memories of those young men would never die while the people who loved them lived on.  And the sadness created by their loss - young lives extinguished before they had really begun - would cast a dark shadow across the community for many generations to follow.

And so when Walter returned to them there was cause to celebrate.  And, stepping from the train he was welcomed with banners, cheers, hugs, kisses, and so much happiness.

Walter decided, soon after his return, to leave farming.  He'd seen his parents, and so many others in the semi-arid outback regions of South Australia, struggle against the climate.  The only certainty in these districts was that another drought would soon follow the last. And with the limited farming equipment and technology available at that time - success was unlikely - no matter how hard one worked.

Walter had grown up in the South Australian outback, unlike the first generation of settlers before him - his parent's generation. He knew exactly what to expect from the land and the climate. He knew Australia was not like Europe. He understood the fact that South Australia was the driest and most arid state in the continent. And, it was for this reason that South Australia was slipping behind the other states, economically, and becoming one of the poorest states in the nation - in spite of the early dreams of the first settlers to make it a genteel 'free-settlers-only' well-planned utopia. 

However, wanting to stay in the district, Walter decided to join the local Police Force. His experiences in the war had shown him that he could manage himself well in stressful and violent situations:  He was resilient and calm; he had a knack for relating well to a wide range of people; and he knew how to handle a gun.  This made the idea of police work a viable career alternative to farming for him. 

Annie helped her younger brother study for the Police Force exams and, passing those, he went on to work as a police sergeant in Bow Hill for the remainder of his life.  It was a job he enjoyed and a job he did well.  

Soon after his return he also married a local girl and settled down to start his own family.  Although he continued to visit Hilda, every few months, when he was down in the city running errands and managing his different business affairs.  Together they always enjoyed a cup of tea, a freshly baked cake, and a good chat.  They never ran out of conversation. Walter always loved to tell his sister about the humorous and exciting aspects of his work.  And Hilda always loved to hear about the Bow Hill and the people she had left behind. Letters home were never as 'real' as hearing the stories about 'home' first hand.  And, when she could save the money and find the time, Hilda took the train back to the country to visit her brother and her parents, and to enjoy the space of the Murray mallee again - away from the noise, the rush, and the suffocating walls of the city.

Annie, meanwhile, had married her fiance, Albert, during the war. And, soon after Walter passed his Police Force exams she moved with her young husband to Auckland in New Zealand.  Sadly, she was never able to have children of her own.  Yet, she always said that her students were like her own children: She loved them all and she felt as proud of them in their achievements as any mother could of her children. Annie managed to come home to Australia every few years to visit her siblings, her parents, and  her numerous nieces and nephews. And, between those visits, Walter and Hilda exchanged letters with her.

Hilda, went on to meet her future husband, Elijah Frederick Mitchell (known to everyone as Fred) at a Saturday night dance in the year 1920, at the age of 23.  As with her siblings, her life was moving into a new chapter.

Hilda felt her loneliness more acutely once her siblings had moved away and got married.  She enjoyed nursing, however the times when she was not at work were painfully dull and she felt increasingly isolated. Also, she had always hoped that one day she would have the chance to become the kind of mother that her own mother wasn't: kind, loving, and supportive.  And she had hoped that she would find, in a husband, a man who was as kind and intelligent as her dear father, Nils.  A man with whom she could share love, friendship and happiness in her life.

Hilda imagined her 'ideal' future in a scene in her mind each night as she lay in bed waiting for sleep.  The scene became increasingly detailed and real the more she imagined it: 

Her tall and handsome husband would be sitting in a leather arm-chair beside her as they sat before a blazing open-fire in the front-room of their suburban cottage. They would be watching their two young children play on a hearth rug, a ginger cat lying contentedly at her feet, as Hilda darned socks or read, at intervals, from a novel. And, during all of this, she and her 'future-husband' would have wonderful conversations about all manner of intelligent and fascinating topics.  And she would feel happy and safe again,  like she used to on the nights spent with her father and her siblings during her childhood - laughing and chatting late into the night beside the kitchen fireplace:  A close and happy family.

And, with this comforting scene playing in her mind like a warm hug, Hilda would fall asleep happy and hopeful for her future.

                                                                                             
                                               *                                                                    

A problem in Australia, following the war, was that there was a relative shortage of men - especially in the 'working class'.  More working-class men had enlisted in the war than middle- and upper-class men.  The latter two classes more often stayed home to run their business, and to continue to make a profit from the war (conscription did not occur in Australia during WW1).  Meanwhile, the working-class men more often enlisted for the chance to earn a decent wage.

For this reason there was greater competition between young working-class women for eligible young men during the 1920's.  (People rarely married outside their own 'social-class' at that time). Many working-class women never found husbands and, even for working-class women who had married before or during the war, many of these women were left either widowed (having to raise children and find a way to clothe and feed them as a single parent - with virtually no social welfare to help), or they were left to look after severely injured husbands who required help with feeding, bathing, dressing, or struggling with the 'mental scars' from the war. 

For many working-class women, life during the 1920's was tougher than it had been before the war - even if the wealthier classes were enjoying the 'roaring '20's' with all its new technologies (wireless radios, talking movies, motor cars, electric heaters, washing machines, electric iron, kerosine refridgerators), newly found freedoms for women,  'flapper-fashions', and 'jazz' parties.

                                            *

Hilda resumed attending Saturday evening dances late in 1919.  She had attended similar dances with Annie, years earlier, when both young women were single.  However, once Annie met her fiance, Albert, and she started spending most of her spare time with him - Hilda stopped going out much. From that time, Hilda spent most of her free Saturday afternoons and Sundays alone in the State library or visiting the Botanical gardens. In the evenings she would read in her room at the hostel.  And, with the money she was able to save, by reducing her social activities, Hilda could afford more frequent trips home to Bow Hill, on the train, to see her family.

Gradually, however, she realised that the months she was spending alone were turning into years - and her hopes of marrying and starting a family were turning from 'plans' into 'unlikely dreams'.  So, in spite of her insecurities, Hilda made the decision to attend dances alone on Saturday nights.  It was the only way that she could think of to socialise with young men in a respectable way.

She did a little research and found that the old dance halls, where she and Annie used to have so much fun, were still open. So, after purchasing a couple of lovely evening dresses with her savings (silk-chiffon, calf-length, diamente trim, pastel colours) she dressed, fixed her long auburn hair into a loose bun - complemented with a pretty hair-comb, grabbed her shawl and her purse ... and she took a deep breath ... and walked to the local city dance hall.

Men were in relatively short supply and many girls had trouble finding a partner with whom to dance.  However, for Hilda, it wasn't long before she received her first invitation onto the dance-floor. And soon she began to remember how much fun it was to dance. She also had a lot of fun mixing with the other young women.  They were all very nice and friendly and together they would laugh and talk for much of the night, between dances, before promising to all meet again the following week.

However, within a few weeks of attending her first dance Hilda met Fred. And, from that moment she spent most of her time at the dances, and on her days off work, with him.

Fred was 24 years old.  He was of average height (around five foot nine), slim, clean shaven with short brown hair, and he had what Hilda thought was a kind smile.  She also noticed that he was particularly polite and respectful and, unlike many of the other young men, he didn't drink alcohol.  Assisting Dr Plummer, as a nurse in the medical clinic, Hilda had seen many women injured by violent and drunken husbands and she was determined to avoid marrying such a man. 

Fred seemed to be a 'decent' man:  Intelligent, responsible, and hard working - with a steady job in a local factory.  Like Hilda, he had done well in school academically.  He'd come top of his class regularly.  However, like the vast majority of people in the working class, at that time, he had to leave school early at the age of 14.  Since then he had worked in labouring jobs because that was all that he was qualified for.

Fred's childhood had been relatively tragic compared to Hilda's mostly happy and stable family life: 

His mother had died in childbirth when he was only five years old.  His father had subsequently engaged a housekeeper to help with the housework and take care of the children.  However, it wasn't long before his father married the new housekeeper and soon more children were born into the already large family. Sadly, the new step-mother was an alcoholic and she was neglectful and abusive towards the children. Then, when Fred was 12, his father died from injuries sustained when he fell into the hold of a ship.

Fred was left an orphan and he subsequently became a ward of the state. His alcoholic step-mother was incapable of looking after the children alone. So, like many other male orphans early in the 20th century in Australia Fred was sent to work in the country as a 'farm boy'. Fortunately, the family he was sent to were kind to him - allowing him to attend the local school with their own children. Before and after school, and on weekends, he would work on the farm to earn his keep.

Finally, at the age of 14, Fred finished school and, two years later, he moved to the city to find paid employment. He was still a child yet he was expected to earn a living and arrange for his own housing.  Related to this he had become hardworking, mature  and quite serious in his nature. 

Within a few months of courting Hilda -  Fred asked her to marry him.

Hilda was aware that she was already 23 years of age (a relatively advanced age to still be 'single' in 1920). She also knew that Fred was a 'good catch,' for a working-class girl, especially when healthy  young men in the working-class were relatively scarce. She hadn't quite 'fallen in love' with him yet, however, she did like him.  She thought he was 'decent':  He was the sort of man a woman could rely on to be responsible and take care of a family. She also knew that if she refused his proposal it wouldn't be long before another girl would quickly say 'yes' to him. 

So - given all of these considerations - Hilda said 'yes'.  And late in 1920 they were married.

Hilda's parents and her brother, Walter, came to the city for the simple Saturday wedding service in the Church of England. Annie couldn't afford the trip home from new Zealand for the wedding - but she sent a card, a generous gift, and her best wishes.  Fred invited his siblings and a few of his friends.

Hilda looked beautiful as she held her father's arm and walked gracefully down the aisle.  She wore a flowing white gown, a white lace veil over her hair (which was pulled up into a pretty bun), and she carried a large bunch of fresh flowers. Fred also looked handsome, in his best suit, as he waited for his bride at the front of the church. 

Following the service, a small but generous wedding breakfast was held in a nearby hall.  Hilda's parents supplied the food, which was made at home with the help of many helpful neighbours who knew Hilda when she grew up in Bow Hill. Hilda's parents also paid for the hire of the hall. And, with her family around her for the start of her married life, Hilda felt happy and hopeful about her future.

On the day of her wedding Miss Hilda Norman (nurse) became Mrs Hilda Mitchell (home-maker): Hilda had left her job, working as a nurse-assistant to  Dr Plummer, shortly before the wedding. Married women, at that time, almost never worked outside the home. It would be considered an act of 'desperation' if a woman had paid-work and it would reflect badly on her husband's ability to provide for his family.

The day after the wedding Fred helped Hilda move her few possessions to his small worker's cottage in the inner-city.  The cottage was situated next-door to the factory where he worked.  

Hilda didn't much like the dark little house in which she found herself:  There was no back garden - just a tiny cement terrace which rarely saw the sun. The walls of the adjacent buildings shrouded it in almost constant darkness; only the weeds pushing up between cracks seemed not to mind.  A broken wooden back-fence peered sadly over the rear yards of the noisy and dirty factory in which Fred worked.  The house was old with salt-damp, cracked walls, and peeling paint; and the rooms were dim, cold and musty with a few dreary little windows which looked out onto the red-brick walls of adjacent buildings.

The world seemed to press down on the little house until it almost crumbled under the strain. It gave the impression of 'giving-up' under the miserable burden of industrialisation and poverty.  And, within the walls of the cottage life seemed equally bleak. 

Hilda considered how terribly different her surroundings were, now, when compared to the countryside in which she grew up:  At Bow Hill the landscape was vast and open; the skies were eternally blue; the world was flooded with sunshine; the peaceful silence was interrupted only by the occasional sounds of bush animals and birds; and the air was fresh and pleasant. While the world of the inner city was relatively cramped, noisy, polluted, and dark.

Yet, Hilda was determined to hold onto her dreams for a happy future with Fred. One day, she told herself, she would live in a bright and happy  house in the suburbs - away from the dirt and noise of the inner-city.  And, in this suburban house, she would create a loving and cheerful home for her family with a beautiful garden filled with trees, flowers and sunshine ... one day.

However, in the meantime, she was determined to create a happy family home in the city cottage with Fred:  She scrubbed and cleaned the house until it looked quite presentable.  She made new curtains and she scoured the neighbourhood for whatever flowers she could find growing wild - in cracks on the footpath or in vacant blocks -  to fill vases and brighten the rooms of the house. And, when Fred came home from work for lunch and  in the evenings, she cooked him good healthy meals - in spite of their very limited finances. And she still managed to save money for their future.

And Fred proved to be a 'decent' husband in all the ways Hilda thought he would be:  He was hard working, mature, and reliable. He was also polite and respectful to her. And he spent every evening at home - not wasting money at the pub drinking, gambling, or flirting with other women - as Hilda knew some men did. 

He was also as keen as Hilda was to save money to buy a home of their own in the suburbs eventually:  To this end he spent almost none of his weekly wage on himself - other than taking a small amount, during the winter months, to pay to watch League football on Saturday afternoons.  Other than that, he handed his entire wage to Hilda when he received it each week.  They both agreed that Hilda was particularly good at managing money - so Fred left that to her.

Yet, while Hilda appreciated all of the obvious admirable qualities in her new husband, there was one area in which she felt particularly disappointed and frustrated:  Fred rarely spoke, and even when he did, it was only about domestic and banal topics.  Similarly, while he could chat with work colleagues and neighbours at a superficial level - when conversations turned to anything beyond friendly banter he would become awkward and silent and he would retreat into himself. 

Hilda knew that Fred's lack of conversation with her was nothing personal; he was like that with everyone.  He seemed to want to avoid becoming 'emotionally' close to anyone. She assumed that it might have something to do with his traumatic childhood and the loss of his parents at such a  young age. And, possibly, it was related to the physical and emotional abuse he suffered under the care of his alcoholic step-mother.  

Hilda wondered if all of the hurt he experienced as a child had damaged him so much that he was now incapable of ever allowing himself to trust other people and let them get close to him. She hoped and prayed that with time he might change. She also hoped that sometimes he might like to spend his Saturday afternoons taking her out somewhere - even to the football.  It would be nice to think that he liked her company. 

As it was, it felt like they were becoming two people simply cohabiting in the city cottage - playing the roles of husband and wife - and nothing more.
 
Living with Fred - and his distant, cool personality - Hilda found her life to be growing more lonely than it had ever been in her life:  When she lived alone in the hostel - at least she could talk with Dr Plummer and her patients at work during the day.  And, when she  worked in domestic service - at least she had Annie to chat to in the evenings, and they would regularly go out together on weekends.  And, when she left school at 12 and became the housekeeper for her family on the farm - at least she could talk with her father and her brother in the evenings. Now she had no-one to converse with - day or night.

It wasn't long into her marriage, however, before Hilda had something new to occupy her thoughts and her time:  Early in the new year she found that she was expecting her first child with Fred:  Dorothy Kathleen was born in October of 1921.  Then, three years later, Ronald Walter came into the world.  And with that Hilda found her niche - and great happiness - as a mother. 

For Hilda, raising her children was the most wonderful and fulfilling job that she would ever have in her life. She loved her children more than she knew she could love anything or anyone and, in return, they felt the same about her.

And, as a mother, she was never so lonely again.

                                                *

I will continue with Hilda's story in the next blog - where her life is rocked by the Great Depression - and then her daughter (my mother) Anne is born.


But for now here is the next excerpt from her journal (1948 - 1963) written to my mother Anne.


HILDA'S  JOURNAL


Friday  November 4th 1949

It is a long time since  I wrote much in this diary - about four months.  I see I started it last November.  I have read it all through today.  I seem to have found quite a lot to write about and was able to read it with interest so I may as well continue. I find it interests me to read of when I pickled the onions, when we finished husking the almonds, and so on.  Also the many little references to yourself Darling.

Well!  We went for our holiday, it was very nice and we met some lovely people but we both liked the top trip much better.

Your exams started today. You have been studying very hard.

We went to a party last Friday night in the 'mansion' (Ayers House - a nurses' home - where Dorothy is residing while she trains as a nurse). You wore your white silk dress and I wore my green dress.  Dorothy wore her pale green dress with the black scriggles.

This house is ours now. The final settlement was last Tuesday week.  We are very pleased to have it settled. I have a feeling of more security.  People in this street have been moving.  We were sorry to lose the Shirleys a couple of weeks ago. Young's, Hawke's have gone, also Phillip's.


Tuesday  March 14th  1950

It is over four months since I wrote last, it was the day your Intermediate (exams) began. You passed in every one of your seven subjects and got two credits. If only we could have looked ahead and read those last two lines what a lot of anxious waiting and worrying it would have saved.  Arithmetic, book-keeping, typing, shorthand (credit 100 words/min), geology, geography (credit), English.  There they are all won by hard work.  If I had to pick the ones I thought you would get credits for it would have been English and geology.  Poor love.  You were not well at all when you sat for the exam. In bed the day before it started with feverish cold.  Temp. 102 degrees.

In the school Intermediate exam you got five credits and passed in seven subjects altogether.

I am very happy about the results.  I keep remembering that you have your Intermediate and I am so thankful.  You are well equipped to earn your living but I want you to be very well equipped and so you are doing Leaving (exams). Even if you don't pass it the extra year at a high school will be of benefit.

We knocked down the almonds.


Sunday March 12th

It will be Easter soon, the weather now is lovely, sunny with fresh cool breeze.  Our garden is very pretty with zinnias and blue salvia.  There is a vase of them beside me.

I had my usual yearly bout of jam making, made Saturday plum 12 pounds, apricot 8 pounds, black berry 24 pounds, plum and pineapple about 7 pounds. Also tomato sauce.

I think you like school better this year dear.  Now that you have passed the Intermediate there is not the anxiety there was before.  You are a very conscientious little body with a sense of responsibility and a thoughtfulness beyond your years.  I do hope it will be a peaceful and happy year, this last year at school my dear little girl.  You are sixteen years old now but still my dear very dear little girl, bless you!  Next year you will start work.

Now for a cup of tea and then finish the housework before I have a go at the blue dress to see what can be done about letting it down. 

See you after school xxxx


Thursday March 15th  1950

I am washing today and having a little rest now.  I kalsomined the dirty places in the dining room today.  I wont mention it but will wait and see how long it takes you to notice it.

The weather is nice but warm enough in the sun for me, the house is nice and cool.  What a relief from the heat.

The shade of the almond trees is thinning now but it has been a blessing through the heat of summer.  Once again bless the man who planted them forty years ago.  I have blessed him many times during the last decade .  We have been here ten years now Lubby.  I was here first and you came later with Dorothy, showing her the way.  I think you wore a yellow dress with white flowers on it.  However the family rolled up in ones and twos.  It was a very hot day and the weather remained terribly hot for three weeks.  I little thought then that within ten years I would buy this house. 

Mrs Milakan is on her shady verandah with her two daughters.  She is wearing a pink and blue floral dress, her zinnias look pretty through the fence.

Mrs Tham is better now.  She sat a while with me yesterday on our verandah.  Most of us have some trouble, big or small as the case may be.  Poor old Mrs Tham's trouble apart from failing health is that awful Mrs Martin next door to her.

We are getting to know and like Mr and Mrs Reedy next door.

Cheerio dear funny little old teenager. xx


April 29th  1950

The weather has been too dry and warm - unseasonable.  I am wishing for the fresh cold days.

Last night (my birthday) you and I went to see 'Little Women' at the Prospect Ozone (theatre), it was a lovely picture.  You gave me a pretty silver bow ornament with a blue stone for my birthday. Your father (Fred) has been home five weeks on the sick list. 

We have stocks, wall flowers and ice land poppies planted out.  The weather has been bad for the poppies.

Our back garden has been very pretty this summer with lovely zinnias and blue salvia.

I hear you humming in the kitchen.  I like to see you happy.  Now for some sewing.  I feel like a quiet day of mending and sewing.  Margaret (Mrs Francis) had a son, Ian Norman.  Estelle has two.  One was born this year.

Mr and Mrs Reedy went away for a few days.  We looked after their place.

I bought you three pretty pairs of winter pyjamas a few days ago - blue, green, pink, and blue.The last is a glamour pair.


June 14th  1950

Winter has set in properly now.  The last couple of weeks have been very cold.  The fires are lovely.  There you are funny little old dear sitting down to homework with your back to the fire in the old familiar way.  Your father has gone to bed to get a good rest for his early start.  He likes his new job. 

Mrs Powell was ill last Sunday week and Auntie Clara (Fred's sister) last Thursday.  Mrs Reedy has had heart attacks and has been very ill.

Joan Collins had an operation on the back of her nose or there-abouts a few weeks ago.  She is well again.  You went with her for a bike ride on the King's birthday.


May 16th  1951

It is nearly a year since I last wrote in this book.  I came across the book a little while ago while doing out my drawers, and I felt I must write a little in it before finishing my tidying and sorting out. 

A lot has happened since I last wrote last in June of last year.  Most important is your results in Leaving.  You came top of all the girls in the state in Commercial Leaving and third in position, two boys gaining the first and second positions.  You were third in the state on shorthand and sixth in the state in geography.  The geography position was one in the eye for 'Topsy' who was always growling at you over it.

You worked very hard my dear in those last three years of high school and then so close to the final examinations you were so ill with the flu for three weeks and when you were well enough to go back to school you were so thin and pale and not strong at all.  'Topsy' was there waiting for you moaning and nagging and predicting failure for you.  It was 'tragic' she said.  However knowing old 'Topsy' you wisely ignored it and plodded on.

So those hard years are over and you are working at the University.  You have learned to dance  pretty well and have a lot of pretty clothes.  There is the yellow lace ballerina and the pretty blue one with the scalloped neckline and sleeves and pretty posy of mixed flowers at the waist.  Whatever other dresses you forget I think you will always remember the first two dancing dresses you ever had.

You went to work today wearing your tan outfit.  The tan GorRay skirt and tan twin set with little green yoke.  You looked so nice in it.

We have started house painting but rainy weather is holding us up.  Dorothy is in Melbourne doing a midwifery course.  OK so far. 

Now I must go back to my drawers so until I write again, before long, Goodbye my dear 'little girl'.  You are 17 1/2 years. xxxx  Forgive me for not writing for so long, but Oh! last summer was dreadful.  Almost continuous heat for more than three months.

Afternoon.
Here I am back again.

The house painting is proceeding where possible (under verandah) pale green.  Your father attracting attention and enjoying it all, still the verandah roof underneath is tiring work and he can do with the rest he has just had over lunch and messages.

I have a pretty bowl of phlox in front of me.  Reedy's pulled up their little oval bed of them and were going to throw them away.  They have planted linaria there. 

The sun is peeping out, through the window I can see a pretty picture of pale yellow and green vine leaves in a window frame.


                              *                  *              *



That is all for this blog.  I will continue with Hilda's journal and her life heading into the Great Depression in Australia in the next instalment.