Going west yesterday afternoon to see our friends Val and Terry in Toowoomba meant that we could delight in watching the sun go down over some of the most beautiful Australian countryside. You will understand why I wanted call this Planet Earth when you see the earlier photographs of the sky – so similar to the satellite photographs of earth taken from space.
Monthly Archives: February 2015
A Ride to the Albert River and Beyond
Having picked up the bicycles from my brother Bill yesterday I was eager to go for a ride in our locality but, after a busy morning doing the housework, it was nearly noon when we set out – Chris came with me (don’t you just love his bike helmet?). Needless to say, it was really too hot to be out cycling and we welcomed every shady tree as a stopping point for a drop of water. We had no regrets – the scenery was beautiful (and hopefully we shed a pound or two!). We were out for three hours!
Jumping for Joy (Part Three) – For the Kids at Babbacombe last July
Owing to a recent surge of interest in the Jumping for Joy series of photographs I took last summer I’ve delved into the files and found the last of the ones that didn’t make it into the earlier three blog posts aired at the time. Incidentally, I was with the fisher-folk, rather than the jumpers, but got bored with fishing (and not catching anything), and found it much more fun to try and catch the jumpers in mid-air. As you can see, I didn’t always succeed…
I Thought I saw a Gnome Mowing the Grass
He was buzzing around everywhere… or perhaps he had some help from a friend – a ‘gnome help’.
Mason and a Carpet Python
Two year old Mason (possibly the most delightful little boy in the world) came with his mum and sister to visit on Sunday morning and decided to stay once he had discovered the joys of playing with a laundry trolley. For twenty minutes or so a two metre long snake we named Sidney stole the limelight (Roland found him in the bushes behind the shed) and, encouraged by Kendall and Liam who are snake owners and fanciers, we all took it in turns to hold him…
A Tiger in the Tank
It’s not just any old FC Holden (1958), it’s my brother Bill’s pride and joy. She purrs like a sleeping lion when she’s running over, she roars like a tiger when Bill puts his foot down, and she goes like a rocket… even with five adults along for the ride. And she’s pretty so you always get a lot of attention when you go out in her (part of the fun!).
This morning Bill was working on his boat when we called over to Tingalpa (Aboriginal for ‘fat kangaroo place’, so Bill told us) but he kindly gave up his work and took us out in the FC Holden instead. We roared over to the Mangrove Boardwalk at Wynnum North, then to Gumdale, our childhood home (from ordinary bush to designer bush – now we couldn’t afford to live there), and on to Gumdale Creek (my favourite fishing spot, which reminds me of our late father). Our tour ended with a growl around Minippi Park, and back to Bill’s for a nice cup of tea before heading home to Roland’s place in the new modern Holden that our friend has lent us. I drove. It was good to be in the driving seat though sadly it was rather a quiet drive… apart from the little alarm bell that went off every time I exceeded the speed limit.
Goldfields and the Long-Horned Bull
It was early and the sun beckoned. Chris and I decided to go for a long walk – back to the spot we had found most enchanting just a few days ago, before cyclone Marcia whirled in from the sea and over Yeppoon (up north), and the heavy rain swept across Brisbane. This time the ‘Time Gate’ was chained and locked but it was easy enough to step over so we did just that, and once again we were transported into a bygone age when Australia was a land of bush, dirt roads, stage-coaches and goldfields.
We found the abandoned Gaol and Assayer’s Office, the Palmist’s Hut, the General Store, the Bakery and the Farrier’s place – we even found the Goldfield School (although I would have called it ‘Goldsmiths’). The small settlement was muddy after the recent rain and the mosquitoes were pleased to meet us in the shade under the trees and the corrugated iron roofs of the buildings. Like the miners of yore, we wore no insect repellent and we were feasted upon, and perhaps moreso because our skin is still fair and tender.
At last, our curiosity satisfied (and now itching to leave), we opted to take a different way home. We guessed that the dirt road would lead eventually to a main road from the modern age but first we would walk through cattle country… Cows are really rather large – aren’t they? The herd was up ahead, some in the fields on either side of the track, and others actually on the road. A big cow called Rosie (she had a name tag attached to her left ear) showed no fear of the approaching strangers from a different time zone, in fact she was immensely interested and walked over to us and sniffed us.
“Hello Rosie!” I said in a friendly confident voice and I patted her cheek and nose.
Rosie put her nose in the palm of my hand and sniffed some more. We didn’t feel that she very enamoured with us but perhaps somebody, or something, else did… Suddenly we heard hooves galloping towards us. A big sprightly bull with long pointy horns came running along the field above the track. We looked at him and he at us. Each of us hesitated and halted while we all summed up the situation and decided upon a plan of action.
“Let’s go back Sally,” suggested Chris.
“No, let’s go forward,” I countered, “don’t look at him and let us walk away slowly.”
It’s quite hard to appear nonchalant when a big bull is chasing you. Never-the-less, we stuck to the plan and the bull lost interest – we didn’t turn around to check but we imagine that to be the case because we lived to tell the tale. Before long (in fact we walked rather briskly) we had passed an old farmstead and an area strewn with rusty old vehicles, and we reached another ‘Time Portal’ in the form of another cattle grid. Once across Chris and I saw a ute coming our way and I waved in a friendly and disarming fashion (lest it should be a disgruntled cattle farmer). The driver and his mate smiled back as they drove past. Relief.
Soon we were on the edge of housing estate. We swung our arms and enjoyed the scenery as we sauntered back to the main road. And when we arrived at Roland’s place, nearly three hours after we had set out, we enjoyed recounting our adventure, especially the most exciting bit…
The Fridge is Singing in the Rain
It is Friday afternoon and I’m sat at my computer in Roland’s office (I’ve made a little niche for myself). The window is open and outside the rain is pouring down owing to cyclone Marcia (pronounced “Marsha” – the American way). Suddenly a smiling face appears behind the insect screen – it is Darren, our daughter’s boyfriend.
“A funny thing happened to me just now,” Darren beams.
“Oh yes…” I say smiling with expectation.
“Yes. As I was walking past the fridge a moment ago I thought I could hear singing coming from inside the fridge,” he begins.
“Singing, from inside the fridge?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes, honestly! I thought it sounded like ‘The Bee Gees’ – I take it you know The Bee Gees?” Darren teases.
“Of course, they are my all-time favourite group…”
“Anyway, I couldn’t just walk on by; I had to go back and investigate the singing in the fridge,” he pauses.
“Well, was it The Bee Gees?” I ask (I can tell he wants me to drag it out of him for greater effect).
“No, actually it wasn’t them at all. I opened the fridge door and saw that it was only the chives talking!”
I’m an Alto
It is five o’clock in the afternoon on this rainy Thursday. The pink bubbly has been opened and the music is on – it’s Roy Orbison – and Roly, Chris and I sing the chorus (the only words we know to ‘Only the Lonely’).
“Come on, join in!” I say to Susannah and Darren (our daughter and her boyfriend) who are at their computers on the dining room table.
“We don’t know it,” replies Susannah.
At this moment Roy begins to sing higher – he is building up to a crescendo.
“I wonder who of us here can sing the highest?” I ask, perhaps giggling a tad after one large glass of pink champagne.
“I think it’s you, Sally,” says Susannah.
“Oh no, not me,” I respond, “I’m an alto!”
“If you’re an alcho I’m dead!” says Roland swigging on his fourth can of beer so far.
Marcia and the Rain-Bringer
Marcia is the category five (highest degree of severity) cyclone which crossed the coast at Yepoon (near Rockhampton, 660ks north of Brisbane) at eight o’clock this morning. Most people who live here would blame Marcia for the expected four hundred millimetres of rain falling currently over Brisbane; other people know that Marsha is only partially responsible…
“I see you brought the rain with you again Aunty Sally,” said my niece Sarah over the phone yesterday.
“You’ve done it again Sally,” laughed my big brother Bill over the phone this morning.
“Oh Sally,” my brother Henry admonished, “you always bring the rain, the floods and cyclones!”
Only two months ago (when there was a drought here and I was freezing in England) Roland had emailed with a photograph of his brown grass and begged me to do a rain-dance. A few days later he asked me stop but to date I haven’t mastered the art of stopping the rain. And yet again, as everyone points out, it rains for me by the bucket-loads. My apologies go to all those expecting floods or cyclone damage. In recompense I got wet and risked life and limb whilst taking photographs of the deluge at the bottom of Roland’s garden.
The meteorologists forecast another  three days of intermittent heavy rain but I’m working on it…
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- Another gorgeous bird