Category: Journal
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Reflections
it is preferable to never look through the same window twice…. …..you just gotta pay attention.
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The Golden Hour
“Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever.” — Horace Mann
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Sylvia jetty sunset.
I used to live in Sylvia Curly House, a nurse’s residence at the old Canberra Hospital located out on Acton Peninsula. Looking out of the window of my small room in Sylvia, I had a million-dollar view out over the lake and across to the Brindabella Mountains. It became a nursing tradition to regularly meet…
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The Martian Embassy
A 10-year-old’s eerie encounter near a crashed UFO site turns out to be the fascinating story of the Australian Shine Dome.
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On assignment.
An expedition. An assignment. A quest. To find the perfect coffee shop. Brew. Ambience. Ceramics.Music. Architecture. People. It’s a big ask to achieve perfection on all the marks. And as the adventure is in the searching, I hope I never find it. As the writer Kate DiCamillo says….. “Say it, reader. Say the word ‘quest’…
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Plaster buddha, wooden beads and a dog collar.
Sitting in the living room is a bespoke plaster Buddha. Purchased on one of my first trips to Byron Bay.Around his neck is a collar from our first dog, Smudge.And a set of wooden prayer beads from my first encounter with the practice of meditation. A small inconspicuous clutter of worthless first things that have…
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Don’t judge a dog by his cover.
Location: the couch. My dog has issues. Lets see… there is thunderstorms, and possums and umbrellas and people wearing hats. And people of colour, and people on disability scooters, and lycra, and anything in the laundry basket and having his claws clipped. There are no doubt more. Every day is a discovery. I suspect that…
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Sunday lake walk.
Shots from a quiet walk along the paved banks of Lake Burley. Everybody that was nobody was out and about. Cyclists, scooterers, and ambulatory deep-in conversationalists. The cardigan crew, the yoga pants posers, the cafe crowd and the fashion outliers. Sunlight held hint of a wry spring smile. Magpies and seagulls amongst it all. The…
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This *might* be the last thing I have to say about climate change.
Here is what I think. We shall not speak of this again.
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