Holds upon Happiness

My mother taught me to love reading. Not TO read, although one of my earliest memories, is going round the flat asking two parents and three sisters to read to me. But no one would. So little Diana curled up in a big chair. And read. A whole book. All by myself. Yes! And have never stopped reading since.

Mountains and rain from God and Mother Nature 

My mother, who, at 97, still reads voraciously, shared this with me.

Little wooden Dutch doll is from my mother

Eve Palmer writes the sort of gardening books which are a delight to read, as books, for the joy of her words, and the gentle illustrations. This one, written back in 1989, is called – Under the olives, a book of garden pleasures. And here is her preface …

Bird from my sisters, made by the Ungardener 

I woke at three o’clock one morning and heard a turtle dove calling in the darkness.

Three can be a bad hour full of troubled ghosts and formless cares, but not this time. I lay, delight slowly spreading from the heart to the head, to my fingers and toes, listening to the bird – surely the bird of Africa – singing in the night.

It was still calling when dawn came. I stood at the window looking out at the trees taking on form and shape with the light and listening, not only to the dove, but to the chirruping of innumerable small birds among the leafy branches. To have a garden to enjoy tree-tops and birds and other such things – what good fortune! And there came into my mind words that I had read in a journal of the Royal Horticultural Society a little while before written by a hard-bitten and unsentimental gardener. They were “Holds upon happiness”, the things that had brought him particular pleasure n his garden.

When they can momentarily forget water rationing and drought, cutworms and rust, the state of the world and time for weeping, all gardeners know they have them, these “holds” that light the day, and it is good for the temper, the flesh and the spirit to consider them and sometimes to parade them.

(She would make an outstanding garden blogger, no?)

Books, ah yes, they follow me home mum!

My mother, being of a much earlier generation, does not Google to track down a quotation. She simply reads widely, thinks it sounds familiar and tracks it down to its source – here it is – in Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey. First published in 1818, the year after she died. It is in Chapter 22.

Dark Danish cat from Jurg's sister, blonde cat (for bookshelf!) found on the spine of England in the Pennines

‘But now you love a hyacinth. So much the better. You have gained a new source of enjoyment, and it is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible. Besides, a taste for flowers is always desirable in your sex, as a means of getting you out of doors, and tempting you to more frequent exercise than you would otherwise take: and though the love of a hyacinth may be rather domestic, who can tell, the sentiment once raised, but you may in time come to love a rose?’

Then there's cat books and ...

Remember the Swiss flag snapping in a breeze against the blue sky. That, was yesterday. Now, to use Dylan Thomas’ words – there are great storm clouds brewing. Last night I could smell the rain coming. And it is now raining. First thing this morning (LATE, I am not an early bird!) I picked all the full-blown roses. Left in the garden, rain will reduce them to porridge. History. Ancient, not modern. But so they are a hold upon happiness to me, and to you.

PS Stuart has sorted the problems with Autumnbelle and Rothschild so they can 'play nicely' with us again.

 Will you Blotanists throw your heart at them again??

Pictures and words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

Thizzz izzz going to be a zzzibilant post

Full of vuvuzelas buzzing ….

 o═════<() ♪ ♫ ♪   o═════<() ♪ ♫ ♪   o═════<() ♪ 

‘Aller guten Dinge sind drei’ sadly translates into English as a rather limp ‘Things come in threes’ losing the German goodness in translation. Simultaneous coincidences. Serendipity. Synchronicity.

That last post on red-and-yellow flowers was sparked looking at this, but I couldn’t get the camera to see what I saw. The Karoo Koppie scattered with a fine upstanding layer of aloe torches blazing, yellow stamens flourished. And behind them Big Red (sorry that IS its variety) Tecoma and yellow Euryops. Another layer echoing the colours beyond. So I called on the Ungardener’s patience and skill.

I first used this picture here roquefort-garden-or-sourdough-garden 

But the reddest thing in the garden, is when himself feels his Swiss roots and flies the flag. You know the story of Henri Dunant founding the Red Cross, and looking around for inspiration. He simply reversed the colours of his own country’s flag. Leading to some confusion, if you are not Swiss, or in Switzerland.

From Wikipedia - The Red Cross flag is not to be confused with the St George's Cross which is the flag of England, Barcelona, Freiburg ... In order to avoid this confusion the protected symbol is sometimes referred to as the "Greek Red Cross"; that term is also used in United States law to describe the Red Cross. The red cross of the St George cross extends to the edge of the flag, whereas the red cross on the Red Cross flag does not.
The Red Cross flag is often confused with the Flag of Switzerland which is the opposite of it. In 1906, to put an end to the argument of Turkey that the flag took its roots from Christianity, it was decided to promote officially the idea that the Red Cross flag had been formed by reversing the federal colours of Switzerland.
Dunant arrived in Solferino (Italy) on the evening of June 24, 1859, on the same day a battle between the two sides had occurred nearby. Thirty-eight thousand wounded, dying and dead, remained on the battlefield, and there appeared to be little attempt to provide care. Shocked, Dunant himself took the initiative to organize the civilian population, especially the women and girls, to provide assistance to the injured and sick soldiers. They lacked sufficient materials and supplies, and Dunant himself organized the purchase of needed materials and helped erect makeshift hospitals. He convinced the population to service the wounded without regard to their side in the conflict as per the slogan "Tutti fratelli" (All are brothers) coined by the women of the nearby city Castiglione delle Stiviere.

We found our Serendip (remember those three princes of) when we came to Porterville for the second time on 7th September 2005. The first time was some years ago when we stayed over in the former ranger’s house in the Groot Winterhoek Wilderness Area. A winter evening, spent by the fire, playing scrabble together. No TV for him, and pre-blogging for me! That second time, we sought out an estate agent and looked at plots.

Again Wikipedia - The word derives from Serendip, the Persian name for Sri Lanka. The Persian word itself has been derived from Sanskrit name for Sri Lanka viz. Swarnadweep (Swarna meaning golden and Dweep meaning island) and was coined by Horace Walpole on 28 January 1754 in a letter ..."It was once when I read a silly fairy tale, called The Three Princes of Serendip: as their highnesses traveled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of ... accidental sagacity (for you must observe that no discovery of a thing you are looking for, comes under this description)

Strange, I have it in mind as a poem ...

Looking back from the flagpole

Across from our town’s Information Office and Museum is an inviting modernish cared for building. On the glass door was a poster, in Afrikaans, EVERY DONKEY KNOWS THAT READING MAKES YOU WISE. The Library! That will be a casting vote, for, or against this town. We had just been to Clanwilliam, where the town library is contemporary with me, showing its half-century by an Encyclopaedia of the (British) Empire on its REFERENCE shelves. But Porterville’s library is welcoming, friendly staff found me a book on the history of the town – ‘Four and twenty rivers’. And what decided it, was glancing at the display of new books. And realising with delighted enthusiasm, I can find something to read, here. In English (not just Afrikaans).

 I think this may be Sebaea aurea, in the Gentian family.

A golden African sun version of the famous Alpine deep blue.

Photographed when we stopped for the snow mid June.

With yellow in mind - simultaneous coincidence, Serendipity and synchronicity – I found these two, not yet three, blogs new to me. From  Elizabeth's Fold,Fallow and Plough black-spot-live-with-it with a link to magnificent pictures of ‘sulphur mining’. To Rosemary's Blog ‘if your chain is gold’ love-what-is-plentiful

BTW Blotanical Picks. I have decided, since I keep picking up a storm, to learn to pick as the rest of you do – with discretion. I will continue to read the familiar blogs I love, but if you already have 10 picks, I’ll leave a comment (or at least you can count another reader). But I will direct my picking to mentoring new blogs. Think about it, even a brand new blog, only needs 10 hearts, 2x5 or 10x1 or anything in between, to fly on the most Popular Posts on Blotanical over the last 48 hours. 

And if you are a new Blotanist reading this, remember, we only have your post's title to go on. So do make your title 

Work For Us.  

PS There was a poll up on my sidebar for June. 

Thank you for voting. Last day to cast your vote? 

33/46 found me at Blotanical, 

(5 via another blog). 

22 use their own short-cut, 

13  use Blotanical, to get here. 

33 choose bling-bling, 

(and only 4 speed-read!)

Pictures by Jurg and Diana, words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

June flowers in red and yellow

Starting last Christmas, around the 25th, my camera and I stroll thru the garden to see what is in bloom this month. Not an exhaustive archive, nor when did it open. Just the OTT, in your face impression. Right now it is red flowers. And yellow flowers. Or red AND yellow flowers for a change? June, winter, is our garden at its most flamboyant and exuberant. Everything that is green is growing. With a lush ankle deep layer of Oxalis 'three-leafed-clover' everywhere it can be.

The OTT prize goes to the Japanese flowering quince we inherited. Because it is a flowering shrub it is a wash, a billow, a tsunami of pink coral salmon, not quite red, but much louder. Noel who lives in Hawaii has a hot-loud-proud meme. This month we are washing in on our tsunami of quince flowers.

Second prize goes to the flaming torch of the Kniphofia, bought as yellow, I guess the lower flowers do mature to yellow.

We have Strelitzias. Nicolai which is at the creeping stage, and will get hugely tall (with quiet white and blue flowers). The original species regina, and also Mandela's Gold in yellow and a gentler blue. The species with its implausible combination of electric orange and blue used to match our old flag, William of Orange tracing back to the country's Dutch roots.

The Karoo Koppie is awash with red aloes, and a carpet of yellow Oxalis. More yellow each day as the waves of flowers open. We have the aloes we brought with us from the first garden, and a few special ones we added when the Karoo Koppie was planted, and the third wave rescued from our neighbour. Who ripped them all out, off to the dump, just before they flowered, and who now has a blank scorched earth patch inside his side gate?!

Our mostly indigenous succulents (there's also an Aeonium in there for the maroon leaves) offer a multi-layered tapestry with their leaves. Regardless of whether there are flowers or not.

Snow on the mountains, but never frost in the garden, gives us the best of both worlds, with the leaves dancing to the red and yellow tune, when you turn to them.

We have, almost always, some roses. The newest member has the twee name of Tiny Tots. I needed to replace a miniature, which was cooked last summer. This one smells delectable, flowers in cream and apricot. Altogether good enough to eat. Bedded down in a thick layer of peanut shell mulch, as recommended by Ludwig's Roses.  

Above Courvoisier, below Casanova, Karoo Rose

But my first love as we enjoy our winter, with a fire blazing in the evening, and sunny blue sky gardening days is this. Lachenalia rubida. One of our MANY Western Cape indigenous bulbs. Exactly the same luminous colour as that Japanese flowering quince we began with.

Gail at Clay and Limestone has a Wildflower Wednesday meme, so I'll tuck my Lachenalia in there. Noelle my A to Z plantlady (she thinks it stands for Arizona, bit I'm not from the USA) has a monthly garden bouquet meme - for me, June's vase is virtual, with My garden as the virtual container.

PS There is a poll up on my sidebar for June. 

Thank you for voting. Four days left to cast your vote. 

31/42 found me at Blotanical, 

(4 via another blog). 

21 use their own short-cut, 

11  use Blotanical, to get here. 

31 choose bling-bling, 

(and only 4 speed-read!)

Pictures by Jurg and Diana, words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

Nguni return – name that cow

In an article published in the UK Telegraph back in January 2009, research which turns up again and again, because it has the feel-good factor as an antidote to the bleak everyday. Cows-with-names-produce-more-milk-scientists-say

If you ARE going to name your cows, how much easier if they are Nguni. Instead of five brown cows, you have something more like a class of school children. Each one unique, not just in its personality and milk production (you in the back, we are talking about dairy cows) but also, kindly in the colours and designs in the hide on her back. 

Dianne Hofmeyr Abundant-words names her five Nguni rugs.

Even the 'black' cow has some white speckles and daubs 

I wonder, is there anyone out there who hasn’t ‘met’ Dylan Thomas? Read or better yet heard ‘A Play for Voices’? Seen a stage performance or a film, of the play – Under Milk Wood?

SECOND VOICE

Farmer Watkins in Salt Lake Farm hates his cattle on the hill as he ho’s them in to milking.

UTAH WATKINS (In a fury)

Damn you, you damned dairies!

SECOND VOICE

A cow kisses him.

 UTAH WATKINS

Bite her to death!

SECOND VOICE

he shouts to his deaf dog who smiles and licks his hands.

UTAH WATKINS

Gore him, sit on him, Daisy!

SECOND VOICE

he bawls to the cow who barbed him with her tongue, and she moos gentle words as he raves and dances among his summerbreathed slaves walking delicately to the farm. The coming of the end of the Spring day is already reflected in the lakes of their great eyes. Bessie Bighead greets them by the names she gave them when they were maidens.

BESSIE BIGHEAD

Peg, Meg, Buttercup, Moll

Fan from the Castle,

Theodosia and Daisy.

SECOND VOICE

They bow their heads.

How can you read his words, without your heart delighting in the joy and lilting music of his Anglo-Welsh?

 Himself thinks a cow should have horns

When we went to Eden I introduced you to ‘a strimmer called Daisy’!

I first wrote about Nguni last December. And those pictures remain, far and away my most popular downloads. When we went to see the snow, we also sought out Nguni cattle. Found this small group near the road.

From the site of The Nguni Cattle Breeders’ Society of South Africa - The Nguni is widely acknowledged to be the outstanding beef breed for optimal production under harsh African conditions. South Africa's indigenous Nguni cattle, long the mainstay of traditional Zulu culture, are possibly the most beautiful cattle in the world, with their variously patterned and multicoloured hides everywhere in demand.

Snow on the mountain-tops?

Looking back, as a girl, the odd field of cows that this city girl saw, were just your usual common-or-garden brown, or black and white Swiss-cow-spots. Then they invented Nguni. And we see them more and more. Either a whole herd, or a few scattered in with their more ordinary cousins. 

PS There is a poll up on my sidebar for June. 

Thank you for voting. Five days left to cast your vote. 

28/38 found me at Blotanical, 

3 via another blog. 

18 use their own short-cut, 

11  use Blotanical, to get here. 

27 choose bling-bling, 

and only 4 speed-read!

Pictures by Jurg, words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

Today we are one year old, with Renosterveld and Aspergillosis

My very first post was a ‘Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells’ letter to our local newspaper. Made our sometimes gardener Rasta Pani grin, when he saw that letter, he knew it was us. World famous in Porterville for being Green, that’s us! The Ungardener's free-spirited-plants  – weeds, pretty-flower-no-not 

This day a year ago, the Ungardener had aspergillosis, was in hospital having his sinuses drained. I knew I had to focus my mind on something else, so I started this blog. Blogger-blogspot or Wordpress? I already had Gmail and Google Chrome as my browser - so mine's a blogspot.

This is a creepy story. A tale of horror. Frankenstein. Vampires and Transylvania.  Aspergillosis is a fungal infection. Caused by Aspergillus - which is a friendly mould, which lives happily in your compost heap, or rotting down your organic mulch. Another species makes sake, and citric acid. So they are not all bad.

But, it is also happy to take up residence, somewhere hollow, warm and moist. Sinus cavities? There it does a Jekyll and Hyde. The idea of a ball of fungus, growing in your body, getting larger and causing more and more symptoms - is horrible. Much more so when it is not just a fantasy, a tale told, to make your hair stand on end. This is related to aflatoxin (in nuts that have gone very off). And mildew, sick building syndrome.

From Wikipedia - In 1729 the Italian priest and biologist, Pier Antonio Micheli, viewing the fungi under a microscope, was reminded of an aspergillum (a holy water sprinkler). How much stranger a twist in this tale - to go from holy water to a disease, which could be deadly. 

I imagine for working writers, blogging is bliss. No editor saying, so many words, on this, and follow the party line, and hand it in yesterday, with pictures. But what would I know?

And then I was in search of anything about gardening in renosterveld. Renosterveld Trust tells me 4% survives between vineyards and wheatfields. Kukumakranka, Spider flower, Geometric tortoise, Cape dwarf chameleon and Aristea lugens - the Renosterveld Small Five.My garden book lumps it in with fynbos, but that doesn’t help much. The fynbos with the proteas is up on the mountain. Where The Snow Now Is Lying On The Peaks. We, down here, are line drying the towels, and gardening and blogging in T-shirts. Yesterday was a magnificent day, with air like champagne, and we went to see the snow.

Just, out of town, past the Spar shop, the cemetery, then Monte Bertha where the ‘so-called coloured’ people live. I am old enough to remember South African maps marked – this town is called Porterville, with a nameless section on the wrong side of the tracks.  In the new South Africa, suddenly, for 'call yourself whites' every little town has acquired a second name.

Stopped to take photos. Of our Olifantskop, the Eye of the Elephant, and I HEAR an elephant trumpeting. Comes a family of farm workers walking past, in T-shirts enjoying a lovely day. And the littlest person huffing on a vuvuzela as long as he is tall!  o═════<() ♪ ♫ ♪   o═════<() ♪ ♫ ♪   o═════<() ♪   

Looking across to our snow-capped mountains, Groot and Klein Winterhoek, you can just see a shimmer of yellow flowers on the mountain slopes, where the fire raged, just clear of those houses.

At the windmill. See the remnant of renosterbos surviving by the road, outside the wheat field. Across the iron bridge, totally unexpected on a back road joining a few farms. But perhaps it was once, The Road from Porterville to Piketberg.

(If you right click open link the pictures grow) The one hundredth picture that was downloaded from Elephant’s Eye was the twin baby heffalumps. The pictures that have been downloaded most often are those of the Nguni. So we drove around looking for them. And found them, for another post.  

Stand with us, your back to the west, where the sun sets, and the sea lies. To your right, south, that chain of snow-capped mountains stretches all the way to Table Mountain in Cape Town. I remember once, as a child, standing on the sports field gazing up, at Snow We Could See, on our mountain. And then perhaps 20 years ago, we once again saw snow on the mountain in Camps Bay (that is west facing, to the sea).

To your left, north, that chain continues to Citrusdal and Clanwilliam with the Cederberg. All along the horizon, 180 degrees, from north to south, snow-capped mountains.

Alan Paton, famous for Cry the beloved country (since it was first published in 1948 it has never been out of print), wrote another book called – Ah but your land is beautiful!  

PS There is a poll up on my sidebar for June. 

Thank you for voting. 

Still at, 27/37 found me at Blotanical, 

3 via another blog. 

17 use their own short-cut, 

11  use Blotanical, to get here. 

25 choose bling-bling, 

and only 4 speed-read!

Pictures by Jurg and Diana, words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

Living green – Recycling

It is a cycle.

As nature recycles our water on earth.

If you just collect,

and don’t dig your heels in, and buy recycled

Yes you are reducing the volume
 of garbage in land-fill.

But, what for,

if you don’t create a demand 
for the recycled end-product?

I mean, if we ‘greenies’ don’t, who else is going to?

(Let your mind’s eye, I cannot bear to ‘see’ it again,

paint a picture of the albatross around our neck, 
dripping crude oil)

Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I have, only now, read this poem in its entirety. A green bay – does the Gulf of Mexico appear in your memory?

Plankies Bay in the Postberg spring wildflower reserve August 2007

The blogs I read are mostly Green, not just green as in garden, but Green as in I care. And say so. Intelligently with information – tell it like it is, don’t look away. An emotional and passionate rant. ‘All that is needed for evil to prevail, is for good people to do nothing’ – possibly Edmund Burke

Leaving Namaqua National Park. For spring flowers again. 

Sneeukop near Kamieskroon September 2008

Starting with Benjamin Vogt at The Deep middle – I-hate-all-of-us when that Gulf of Mexico oil spill began to seem like the Third World War, a war against the natural world, and ultimately against us. Tales from the Microbial Laboratory writes about our hypocrisy

petromammaland-hypocrisy If like me you are tapping away at a plastic key-board, perhaps wearing Crocs – Hello Petromammal!

This week. Our mountain, with a waterfall after the rain

I have been fascinated by the ground-swell amongst My Blogs. What can I DO? Heidi at Gippsland asked us to - Help-me-reuse-and-repurpose-with-purpose. Susan J Tweit at Walking Nature Home – with her husband coined the word terraphilia. They are reclaiming derelict industrial land – he is a sculptor, and she writes, for instance this post about recycling ‘If companies used recycled plastic, it would create a market for all the plastic we're currently trying to recycle that sits around in bales unused.’ Lighten-up. Beth at An Urban Plot is reclaiming the earth, one city lot at a time. This is a Slow Blog, but eminently worth waiting for. I think of her, each time I make sure my apples are organically grown. Change-the-world-go-organic

Then there’s Meredith at The Enchanted Earth Lisa at How’s Robb? who keeps bees Hive-mystery And Habitat Aid reminding us why nature is something we value, and work for, and with.

Rain in our pond this week

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
— Margaret Mead

Don’t shoot the messenger. We are all and each guilty as charged. Reduce your use of oil, and the earth’s natural resources. Do everything you can to reclaim our damage of nature, for habitat again. Teach your children well. truthout reproductive-health-concerns-aftermath-gulf-oil-disaster 


What is going to happen to the world’s ocean? The oil will spread. The damage will radiate out, everywhere, it is, one great body of water. If you live in Florida, this post hits Home. BP-oil-spill-hits-home-my-home If you don’t, this link hits HOME If it was my home?. For me, if I base it in Cape Town (the centre of my world) it reaches north to Clanwilliam, East to Sutherland, South to Swellendam and Hermanus, and West to Langebaan, covering most of the Western Cape, then far, out to sea.

Aragon is cold, and Chocolat keeps her warm tx!

I will close with the words of Adrian at Reconciliation Ecology Gardeners-work ‘The work we do, we who tend the living earth’.


If I have missed you out, please leave a comment. These are the blogs and posts that dance in my mind right now.

PS There is a poll up on my sidebar for June. 

Thank you for voting. 

So far, 27/37 found me at Blotanical, 

3 via another blog. 

17 use their own short-cut, 

11  use Blotanical, to get here. 

25 choose bling-bling, 

and only 4 speed-read!

Pictures by Jurg and Diana, words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

Cabin Fever to Moutonshoek

Every so often the Ungardener gets cabin-fever. Then he has to Go Somewhere. I have pulled all the Somewheres together and put up a new page ---- South Africa. Mostly it is out for the day, sometimes we are in a National Park. And just once we Travelled to London and Switzerland.

Moutonshoek farmland is behind those hills

We have a Wild Card - which gives us 'unlimited access to all National Parks'  and saves us the daily conservation fee. Categories and prices are here - wildcard faq. Since the Ungardener is a senior citizen, we get Better prices on accommodation.

I wanted to redo the header, and the Why Elephant's Eye, and the Quiet Hills posts, with this year's fresh pictures of the Elephant's Eye - but it has rained hard most of today, so that must wait.

This is the farmland. Weird circles are from pivot irrigation. Mostly potatoes

We have almost knee high (if your knees are low-slung) billows of Oxalis, with the first few lemon yellow flowers coming thru. The sun-birds are delighted with the Karoo-Koppie-succulent-garden as our aloes and plakkies come into flower, and can be heard singing their little heads off. The song-sparrows, that's why they are called SONG-sparrows keep hoovering up all the seed in the feeder and glowering impatiently for a refill. Oy, you! Service!

All taken 2nd December last year. Old camera. 

My potted bulbs have again got a worthy home - there will be another post for that. I grew most of them from Kirstenbosch seed, starting about 30 years ago. The first delicate pink Oxalis are coming, and the turquoise sea-green mermaid coloured June's-flowers-Lachenalia. With fat buds of rubida tucked at the base of their leaves still.

Perfume Passion rose, meant to 'provide a welcome' to visitors coming to our front door, is sending such huge shoots out, it is attempting a serious Bear Hug. It is certainly bigger and wider than I am!

Tapestry of colours and textures, quilted by nature

The pictures are of Moutonshoek, across the wide valley to Piketberg, and around their mountain to Moutonshoek. From here the water feeds down to Verlorenvlei, a Ramsar wet-land. And they plan a huge open-cast tungsten mine. Tungsten for old-fashioned incandescent light-bulbs, guns and drill-bits. Cutting off and contaminating the water supply to Verlorenvlei and the migratory birds. Destroying farm-land in a dry and hungry country, and leaving more local farm-workers unemployed. Contributing slime dams on dodgy geology and clouds of toxic dust.

PS There is a poll up on my sidebar for June. 

Thank you for voting. 

So far, 24/34 found me at Blotanical, 

3 via another blog. 

16 use their own short-cut, 

10  use Blotanical, to get here. 

23 choose bling-bling, 

and only 4 speed-read!

Pictures and words by Diana of Elephant's Eye