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Mt Annan

We went to Canberra for a day last weekend.  I decided to make the most of the trip by going to some new places. Our first port of call was Mt Annan botanic gardens on the outskirts of Sydney.  It showcases native plants so I was quite excited at the prospect of exploring and perhaps identifying some of the plants that confuse me.  But this wasn't to be ... my husband is not as enchanted with identifying flowers as me. So we settled for coffee over the road from this stunning display of paper daisies.


  1. Just lovely. I have a husband just like that. Coffee shops are more compelling than gardens.

  2. What a wonderfully cheerful picture - such profusion of blooms, and what a treat to sit down and enjoy them over a coffee!

  3. Mt Annan gardens is one place I want to get to. It would be magnificent just about now too.

  4. Mass plantings like this set the heart free, don't they? I have never been to Mt Annan. Must rectify that.

  5. This is a lovely photo.
    I set Vince up with a game on his iphone when I need to ...... most of the things I do.
    Fortunately, he finds his iphone endlessly fascinating.


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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.

But then the grey clouds gather

Mostly there was sunshine but sometimes rain. The long drought is still too close a memory for us to not welcome rain even on holiday. We are still at Shellharbour here, you can see the steelworks at Port Kembla in the distance. Musing: From The Storm by Theodore Roethke "Along the sea-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell, The waves not yet high, but even, Coming closer and closer upon each other; A fine fume of rain driving in from the sea, Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of buckshot, The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending, Flicking the foam from the whitecaps straight upward into the darkness."