Sweet Wayfaring

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.

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.

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."

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.

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. ...