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I couldn't go home without just one more photo of those rolling green hills.


  1. These, to my eyes and probably to Letitia's, are just as beautiful when brown and dried out.

    What I want to do here, though, is to find out about the geology of the area and what created the landforms in this most pleasing of ways.

    You have the inate feel to know that you needed the row of willows (?) along the bottom to round the image out.

  2. Stunning again, Joan! Haven't been to that area for years. Time for me to explore again.

  3. It was the very row of willows mirrored by the geology that made me post a second shot. They were what caught my eye in the first place then the house with the smoking chimney stole the show.

  4. More beautiful countryside. The shadows show the contours well.

  5. Another one with amazing mountain lines and shades! Just beautiful, Joan Elizabeth! It's a painting! :-)

  6. I have the same problem I had with your last posting (therefore I didn't say anything at all, ;-)): just nthing all the other commenters, :-)


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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.

Blue Wren

Having finished the circuit at the zoo we settled down for a nice lunch at the cafe. This chirpy little blue wren came close to our table while his brown wife Jenny jumped playfully on the grass. Nesting swallows swooped in an out of the rafters.
Musing:The Blue Wrens and the Butcher Bird by Judith Wright
"Sweet and small the blue wren
whistles to his gentle hen,
"The creek is full, the day is gold,
the tale of love is never told.
Fear not, my love, nor fly away,
for safe, safe in the blackthorn-tree
we shall build our nest today.
Trust to me, oh trust to me."

Cobwebs they gather and dry grass,
greeting each other as they pass
up to the nest and down again,
the blue wren and the brown wren.
They seek and carry far and near,
down the bank and up the hill,
until that crystal note they hear
that strikes them dumb and holds them still.

Great glorious passion of a voice--
sure all that hear it must rejoice.
But in the thorn-bush silent hide
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Royal Hotel - Ganman

And I wrap up this trip with the Royal Hotel at Ganman.