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Showing posts from October, 2008

Stepping out

I was intriged by the theatric way the crowd in Chinatown dressed, including their shoes. Musing: From These boots are made for walking a pop song written Lee Hazelwood and first sung by Nancy Sinatra "You keep saying you got something for me Something you call love but confess You've been a'messin' where you shouldn't 've been a'messin' And now someone else is getting all your best Well, these boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you You keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin' You keep losing when you oughta not bet You keep samin' when you oughta be a'changin' What's right is right but you ain't been right yet These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you"


After church we continued our walk to Chinatown where we enjoyed a pleasant lunch with our guest.

Morning church

After breakfast we went on our own walk into the city to attend the morning church service at St Andrew's cathedral. A great place to worship with excellent teaching, beautiful music and a very friendly welcome. Musing: The organist was playing Prelude & Fugue in F by Vincent Lubeck.

More walking

During our leisurely breakfast on Sunday morning, looking down from our room with a view to the street below, we saw yet another crowd of people purposely walking. A quick web search revealed these were on the 25km Seven Bridges Walk . Musing: From View of Sydney Australia from Gladesville Road Bridge by Les Murray "There's that other great arch eastward, with its hanging highways; the headlands and horizons of packed suburb, white among bisque-fired, odd smokes rising; there's Warrang, the flooded valley, that is now the ship-chained Harbour, recurrent everywhere, with its azure and its grains; ramped parks, bricked containers, verandahs successive around walls, and there's the central highrise, multi-storey, the twenty-year countdown, the new city standing on its haze above the city."


We are moving out of the room with a view this week so spent a final weekend here in Sydney with our latest guest. Eating a meal at King Street Wharf on Saturday night we were surprised to see thousands (yes thousands) of people dressed in a fantasy of pink walking past. It was the Dove Pink Star Walk in aid of breast cancer. Musing: From Tears Idle Tears by Alfred Lord Tennyson "Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more."

Heading home

This is the wrap up for this trip. On the way back home we saw the canola field again. Canola, known as rapeseed in other parts of the world, can be a contentious crop.

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.

The one I caught

This little one stayed still long enough for me to focus.

The one the got away

The birds flitting about at the zoo fascinated me as much as the exotic animals. I tried to get a good close shot when one jumped up on the Rhino's fence but I was a bit slow as usual but rather liked the shot anyway. Musing: By Emily Dickinson "She sights a Bird - she chuckles - She flattens - then she crawls - She runs without the look of feet - Her eyes increase to Balls - Her Jaws stir - twitching - hungry - Her Teeth can hardly stand - She leaps, but Robin leaped the first - Ah, Pussy, of the Sand, The Hopes so juicy ripening - You almost bathed your Tongue - When Bliss disclosed a hundred Toes - And fled with every one -"


I named this post after the mythical many headed beast. This intriguing photo of the giraffes with their heads so perfectly aligned was actually in the background of the another shot I was taking. Aren't they beautiful.


While we were in Wellington we did the 50Kms or so drive to Dubbo and visited the Western Plains Zoo. Ok I know the photo is of a Rhino but I wanted to use the poem which is a match with yesterday's poem. At the zoo I was getting hot and tired by the time we went past the Tiger's area so I gave them a miss, then regretted it when it came time to be writing this blog post. Musing: Tyger by William Blake "Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare sieze the fire? And what shoulder, & what art. Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven

Little lamb

It was so lovely to see the countryside looking lush, green and idyllic. I found it hard to photograph lambs. The instant I came within view the ewes bleated and led their little ones further into the paddock away from the fence. Musing: The Lamb by William Blake "Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight; Softest clothing, wooly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, Little Lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb. He is meek, and he is mild; He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee! Little Lamb, God bless thee!"

Spring bells

I took this photo near the Lion of Waterloo hotel. I noticed these trees, each with a beautiful burden of flower, all over Wellington. I don't remember ever seeing this type of tree before. Musing: From Villanelle of Spring Bells by Keith Douglas "All evil men intent on evil thing falter, for in their cold unready ears bells in the town alight with spring make clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing."

Rustic fence

I liked this rustic fence at the Lion of Waterloo hotel. It has none of the craftsmanship I admired in the dovetailed fence by Ken at Stouffville Daily Photo. But it has a \slapped together Aussie country quality. Musing: Written by Cole Porter and Robert Fletcher and sung by many Hollywood stars. "Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above, Don't fence me in. Let me ride through the wide open country that I love, Don't fence me in. Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze, And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees, Send me off forever but I ask you please, Don't fence me in."

Yellow and green

Isn't this canola field awesome. At least four other cars stopped to take photos the same time as us. Musing: By Emily Dickinson "A Light exists in Spring Not present on the Year At any other period -- When March is scarcely here A Color stands abroad On Solitary Fields That Science cannot overtake But Human Nature feels..."
Last weekend was a long weekend and we went wayfaring again at last! It was off west to Wellington where we had so much enjoyed the June long weekend. The weather was mostly fine, the grass was verdantly green after recent rain and there was an explosion of spring blossom in the gardens. Musing: By Emily Dickinson "A little madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King, But God be with the Clown — Who ponders this tremendous scene — This whole Experiment of Green — As if it were his own!"