There was no explanatory sign but given that sheep is sitting in a squatters chair I think it is saying something about squatters . Perhaps also about the fact that the location of this city was just a sheep paddock 100 years ago.
On this trip I had some hours to kill in Civic and what perfect weather for doing so ... just sitting on a park bench reading a book in the golden autumn light rather than walking around the City Centre mall window shopping and buying things I don't need. Then I struck on an idea of finding Animals in the city like I did in Sydney so over the next week I'll show you what I found.
When you see the myriad of outdoor eating spots in Civic you have to give a thought to Gus who when I first moved to Canberra was having a monumental battle with the authorities to establish European style outdoor eating which was against the regulations. They took his tables and chairs. They took his awnings and poles and he persisted. Now the windy alleys around Garema Place where his cafe remains has an almost Melbournian feel of conviviviality.
But there is no denying the dappled light of autumn in Canberra is just plain lovely, enough to bring poetry to the lips. I found these three poets in Garema Place once an empty lifeless kind of place and to me now better than it was though others still think it soulless. Judith Wright, David Campbell and AD Hope. All poets I enjoy. There were further poetical snippets set in the pavement, including one by Micheal Thwaites who I don't remember reading so looked him up. Here is one of his poems Canberra in Autumn .
We visit Canberra each month so I am going to take you for a quick walk around the city as I saw it this week. However to begin, this was in the summer. They looked nice but I can't understand why flower baskets in Australia never seem to be as beautiful as Europe.
I haven't been anywhere new to start a new tour but we went out to our block at Clandulla this weekend. Poplars just sulk and drop their leaves in the mountains but turn glorious gold out west. Drink in their beauty until I find a new story to tell.
The train was beginning to fill with people going home from the city march. This lady was wearing a rosemary sprig. She said she travels into the city each year in memory of her Dad who fought in New Guinea.
She is reading a letter to her friend. That is one of the joys we miss in this modern age. Christmas is about the only time we receive a personal letter in the mail. My Mum/Dad used to write to me every week and I used to similarly write to them. Unfortunately I kept very few of the letters.
We owned and lived in an apartment in that block towering over Market City. On our way back from the visit with our cousin we decided to pop in for lunch and take a short trip down memory lane starting with familiar Asian smells (its in China Town) but I can't photograph those.