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I love the old bridges with girders that you find all over New South Wales.  That's the Murrumbidgee River we are about to cross.


  1. Somewhere there is a web-site that I have stumbled across, where they detail all these old bridges - and their replacements. DMR ... their heirs & successors ...

    1. I like the bridges but don't want to know that much about them!

  2. I like that kind of landscape - all those hills and dales.

    1. Me too. That's why I like the drive from Clandulla to Mudgee so much. We are always making excuses to do that trip when we are out at the block.

  3. I love old bridges, too. I like how this one leads you deep into the picture.

    1. For me there is a lot to love in this photo. I like the hill as much as the bridge. I agree it is the combo that gives this image its magic.

  4. That's a great looking hill in this photo.
    It's a lovely soft shape with little furry eyebrows.

    1. Furry eyebrows. An interesting analogy. The hilltop reminds me of the style found in Fred Williams paintings.

  5. Pretty green and iconic bridge.

    1. I was back in Canberra yesterday. The green seems to be fading.


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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
the nest-builders side by side.

Royal Hotel - Ganman

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