Sweet Wayfaring

This one is of the same field as yesterday. Photo: Hayfield near Tarana

Photo: Hayfield, near Tarana Musing: From Haymaking by John Clare "And its beautiful to look on How the hay-cleared meadow lies How the sun pours down his welcome heat Like gold from yonder skies"

Daisies -- a reminder of sweet simpliciy and innocence. Photo: Daisies, Oberon Musing From a classic Christian hymn by Charles Wesley "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child; Pity my simplicity, Suffer me to come to Thee. Lord, I would be as Thou art; Give me Thine obedient heart; Thou art pitiful and kind, Let me have Thy loving mind."

Photo: Burnt pine forest, Oberon district A reminder that not all forests have the clever trick of regenerating after fire like our native Eucalypt forests.

Like Robert Frost ( yesterday’s poem ) I also saw a small bird near the wood pile. Photo: Bird on gate in pine forest near Black Springs Musing: My Papa’s Walz by Theodore Roethke “The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.”

Photo: Pine logs in forest near Black Springs Musing: From The wood-pile by Dave Frost "The view was all in lines Straight up and down of tall slim trees Too much alike to mark or name a place by So as to say for certain I was here Or somewhere else: I was just far from home. A small bird flew before me. He was careful To put a tree between us when he lighted, And say no word to tell me who he was Who was so foolish as to think what he thought. He thought that I was after him for a feather— The white one in his tail; like one who takes Everything said as personal to himself. One flight out sideways would have undeceived him. And then there was a pile of wood for which I forgot him and let his little fear Carry him off the way I might have gone, Without so much as wishing him good-night. He went behind it to make his last stand. It was a cord of maple, cut and split And piled—and measured, four by four by eight."

Forestry is very big business in the Oberon district. In Queensland, Dad often piled us kids in the car for Sunday afternoon drive through the pine forest. As the sun began to sink, animals crossed the road on their way to water. I saw an echidna this time but as usual was too slow with my camera. Photo: Pine forest, Oberon district Musing From The Pine Forest Of The Cascine Near Pisa by P.B. Shelly "We paused amid the pines that stood, The giants of the waste, Tortured by storms to shapes as rude With stems like serpents interlaced. How calm it was--the silence there By such a chain was bound, That even the busy woodpecker Made stiller by her sound The inviolable quietness; The breath of peace we drew With its soft motion made not less The calm that round us grew."

Photo: Hayfield, Black Springs

Photo: At Mill Museum, Rockley Musing: From the Holy Bible Matthew 18:5-6 New International Version "And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.”

Yep, I’m a total sucker for old junk. Photo: At Mill Museum, Rockley Musing: From Tractor by Ted Hughes "The tractor stands frozen - an agony To think of. All night Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale, A spill of molten ice, smoking snow, Pours into its steel. At white heat of numbness it stands In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness. It defied flesh and won't start. Hands are like wounds already Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable As if the toe-nails were all just torn off. I stare at it in hatred.”

You know you are in the country when you can get a picture of a disused dunny, wooden wagon wheel, cement wash tubs and 44 gallon drum sprayed with bullet holes all in the one shot without setting it up. mmmm ... I am still a country girl at heart. Photo: Backyard, Burraga Musing: From Homesickness by Yu Guangzhong, a renowned writer from Taiwan. "In my childhood, Homesickness was a small stamp, I was here, and my mother was over there; When I grew up, Homesickness was a small tomb, With me outside, and my mother inside; But now, Homesickness is a shallow strait, I am on this side, and the mainland is on the other side."

Our latest wayfaring trip has been Oberon .... again! Sorry to be repetative but I just love this part of the country. It was interesting to see how previous 'photo spots' have changed. Golden hayfields are now green with fresh lucerne. Blue swathes of Paterson's Curse ploughed ready for crops. Photo: Near Oberon

The Kookaburras at the River Park are wily creatures – waiting for their moment to swoop on the tasty barbequed sausages of unsuspecting campers. They then proceed to “kill” the sausage before gobbling it down. Photo: Laughing Kookaburra, Lane Cove River Park During our brief sojourn in the park we attended evening information sessions run by the National Parks and Wildlife team and learnt about the two calls the Kookaburras make as they are settling down for the night. We saw by torch light where they sleep high in the trees. And in the torch light we also saw brush tail possums , ring tail possums, bandicoots and spiders. Another night we looked at the stars – the few that could be seen through the bright lights of the city and the sheen of a full moon. We sighed for the sparkle of the Milky Way glistening in the darker night sky of the mountains – time to go home again.

Birds abound at the Lane Cove River campsite, including these Rainbow Lorikeets feeding greedily on the Old Man Banksia flowers. Lorikeets, an unfrequent visitor to my Blue Mountains garden, are common in the city. Photo: Rainbow Lorikeet, Lane Cove River Park

My sister has been in Canada where she skated on a frozen river. The only type of river skaters we have in Australia are these little insects we saw on our evening walk beside Lane Cove River. Photo: Pond skaters, Lane Cove River In many ways the bush here is similar to the Blue Mountains, I saw familiar flowers, familiar weeds and heard familiar birds settling down for the night but the noisy calls of water birds cutting through the quiet air were unknown to me.