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I was stalking the swans and not looking at my feet.  Suddenly I found them slipping away from under me and the next minute sitting in the middle of these sticky globules.  There were heaps of them ... what are they?


  1. That's the life of a Paparazzo Joan! I can't help you with the globules but was it a soft landing.?
    They look like leaves.of some type of vine but it's not a vine!!

  2. Seeds some kind, like the fruits of the grass?

  3. Definitely aliens. ;-)

    I hope you haven't made them mad.


  4. Well if they are snails, frogs, or aliens I would not want to meet them cos there was a lot of the stuff and they would have to be pretty big.

    Definitely not fruit, they were suspended in some gooey goop. It was near a bar so I thought it might be the the balls from asian pearl milk tea.

    I wasn't tasting to see what they were made of.

  5. Amazing! These look like frog eggs! :-)

  6. " Asian pearl milk tea' ... whaaaaaa?

  7. I am with the others: frog eggs! ;-)

    But really, they look wonderful, don't they?

    Bubble tea ... grin.

  8. Wonderful provided you are not sitting in the middle of them. And very sticky ... I had green globules all down the back of my trousers ... but I have to say I did find the whole incident funny.


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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."