"To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze ... such sweet wayfaring" William Wordsworth
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Grey
We bumped along quite a few kilometers of dirt track than eventually hit bitumen again just before coming across this old tennis court at locality of Olinda.
Tumbleweed It was August (known to be a windy month of the year) and it was blowing a gale. Tumbleweeds hurtled across our path, pressed forward by the busy wind. While I was photographing the tumbleweed, I braved the icy blast to find a few more tiny flowers and fruits by the roadside.
it'd make a good chook pen nowadays :D)
ReplyDeleteOr a fenced garden/orchard...
ReplyDelete