#500 — Slight of hand?

The hand of feminine consciousness. Whatever/whomever it touches turns a thing of little bounce into something of florid extravagance.

Sought after by gardeners and sportspeople alike, shown above is a most coveted trophy. Who is touching whom?

Early this year — just after Christmas and, in fact, only about a week ago — I was visited by three wise women offering the gift of service. Walking out onto the playing field, they appear to be taking their positions as referees in some great match about to happen.

Today’s blog entry is about, not only what impact their visit had on Windgrove, but how their visit neatly coincided with and fit into this, the 500th “Life on the Edge” blog entry starting way back eleven years ago in January of 2003.

The question I have posed myself is how to create in this blog a synthesis and encapsulation of the previous 499 entries. Should it be serious? Maybe tongue-in-cheek? Hopefully, enticing?

Here is the attempt to blend fact with the artful truthful efflubiating lie.

Let’s start out with a photo of the tennis court as it appeared this morning. Not quite ready to handle the crowds that will eventually pack the viewing platform off to the left, or for players wanting to climb the ladders of success, but the parade car capable of holding ten tournament players has made a practice run around the court’s surface and is not parked in an advantageous viewing position to capture as much attention as possible.

The crowds will be coming to WWITTY 15 — Windgrove Women’s International Tennis Tournament Year 2015 (perhaps).

But enough tennis balls have to be available in sufficient quantity for such a prestigious tournament.

And this is where the aforementioned women came to the fore. You see, being isolated from most of everything, and China being too far away to guarantee a steady supply of balls, there is a necessity to grow and produce our own Windgrove tournament balls.

With their help, balls for upcoming games were harvested like “seed potatoes”, then cleaned, separated into the choicest perfect size and, finally, planted out.

As shown in the above photo, ball girl Mia has already harvested two seed balls from mature “macrotenisorbiums” or as is more commonly known, “tennis head” flowers.

Only the blue gloved hand of feminine consciousness can plant out these yellow seed balls in a linear, rational pattern where a friable soil has been properly prepared and fertilised. The job is delicate. Utmost precision is required to serve up a successful crop.

And bingo. Because of intensive coaching, within just a few days another batch of tennis balls are fully grown and ready for the next selection process before court appearances are made.

Off the court and as an aside, let me toss in this statistic: according to my web master Allan Moult, “Life on the Edge” consistently averages over 5,000 unique visitors per week. My considered applause, therefore, and a standing ovation to all my consistent readers.

May I and the plural “You” be around for the next 500 entries.