Skip to main content

My love is otherwise


We swung out to the coast one last time at Lakes Entrance where a network of inland waterways known as the Gippsland Lakes meets the sea. Our last glimpse of the coastline.

The truth is, as much as I enjoyed my sojourn by the sea, I was looking forward to the still heat of the inland, away from the constant swoosh of the waves and the persistent flapping from the sea breeze. My friend Peter says there are "saltwater" people and "freshwater" people -- no guesses as to where I fit.

Musing:
From Breath by Tim Winton
"When I asked if I could just ride out to the rivermouth with Loonie he shook his head. Too rough, too far, no way. But I wanted to swim where I could see the bottom, to be where those long creaming breakers trundled in from the south so I could dive down and see them pass overhead. I hankered after the sea as I'd never done for anything else before. I'd always been a compliant, respectful child and until that point I was usually content. But being denied access to the ocean was intolerable"

Comments

  1. We did follow the same path = and I also read 'Breath' on my holiday. Wonder if we saw each other :-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. How did I miss this post? I've finished rvamping everything, maybe now I'll settle down to business.
    I am a water baby, salt or fresh, I love it so I don't think I fall into one or the other either.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Coolibah?

Is that a Coolibah tree beside the abandoned house? Every Australian knows about Coolibah trees because the bush ballad Waltzing Matilda is nigh on our unoffical national anthem but most of us live nowhere near the inland where they grow. Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong, Under the shade of a Coolibah tree, And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled, You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me. Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me, And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.

The end

I retire from the workforce this week and to celebrate have decided to retire my current blogs and start afresh with a single consolidated blog -  My Bright Field  - to record the delights of my new life adventure. If you are interested follow me over there.  I will still be Sweet Wayfaring and collecting Royal Hotels.  The delights I discover along the way will appear together with my gardens and towns where I live.

Brown streams and soft dim skies

I gave my husband a thick book on the history of Australian Art for Christmas. It documents just how long it took the artists to paint what they actually saw -- at the hands of early artists our wild Australian landscapes looked like rolling green English countryside. Today's photo has "that look" so I have referenced words from the poem describing England. It was Christmas Eve. We were camped by the Tumut River in the Snowy Mountains of NSW. A shady spot planted with exotic trees from the "old world" and with the soft burble of a swiftly flowing stream. Bliss after a hot afternoon drive. But the old world dies slowly, a hot roast for Christmas dinner followed by plum pudding is one of those traditions that just won't die. Knowing we were going to be on the move on Christmas Day we settled for having our traditional hot meal on Christmas Eve this year.