Sweet Wayfaring

Now I've shown you plenty of open sheep country that looks like this. Tomorrow I will show you something that appears in this type of country that I haven't shown you. Musing: To Sleep by William Wordsworth "A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky; I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees, And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear tonight away: Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!"

After the sumptuous poplars of the last three days it's almost a shock to post a picture of the open country. We stopped to see what I could do with photographing one of the stubble fields, and to my surprise there was yet another abandoned house in the middle of it. The first book written by Colin Thiele, a famous Australian children's author was "The Sun on the Stubble". I remember laughing my way through the radio reading of it on the ABC Children's Hour. Musing: I found this quote from Colin Thiele from a 7:30 report TV interview. "We sucked up this country through our boot soles. It's in our blood. We'd never lose it. I have a great affection for it. I like the open countryside and this was certainly open enough!"

Late afternoonm, at the school, Molong Musing: There's a certain slant of light by Emily Dickinson "There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes. Heavenly hurt it gives us; We can find no scar, But internal difference Where the meanings are. None may teach it anything, 'Tis the seal, despair,- An imperial affliction Sent us of the air. When it comes, the landscape listens, Shadows hold their breath; When it goes, 't is like the distance On the look of death.

James Jordon at Points of Light is a photographer I admire not only for the captivating beauty of his work but also for his willingness to share tips on how he achieves these results. He writes of the Red Rule – “If you see something red, shoot it!” I think the little bit of red adds something to the golden gorgeousness of this shot. Musing: Binsey Poplars (Felled 1879) by Gerard Manly Hopkins MY aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled, Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun, All felled, felled, are all felled; Of a fresh and following folded rank Not spared, not one That dandled a sandalled Shadow that swam or sank On meadow and river and wind-wandering weed-winding bank. O if we but knew what we do When we delve or hew— Hack and rack the growing green! Since country is so tender To touch, her being só slender, That, like this sleek and seeing ball But a prick will make no eye at all, Where we, even where we mean To mend her we end her, When we hew or delve: After-comers cann...

Polars at not native trees but are popular in the farmlands. They don't colour well in the mountains (perhaps it is too misty and damp) but over the hills they go glorious golden so I was on a mission to get at least one good shot. Musing: From The Poplar by Richard Aldington "I know that the white wind loves you, Is always kissing you and turning up The white lining of your green petticoat. The sky darts through you like blue rain, And the grey rain drips on your flanks And loves you. And I have seen the moon Slip his silver penny into your pocket As you straightened your hair; And the white mist curling and hesitating Like a bashful lover about your knees.

Welcome back, we are on out way to Molong for a weekend exploring more of Cabonne Country. Expect to see my usual loves -- farmland, fences, old buildings and more -- but first a brief rest in the city at Cook's Park in Orange. I've even found time to match poems or writings with all this series, such pleasure wandering among words, almost as good a wandering around the country. There is a certain richness about this time of year ... the light is luxurious and the cooler is weather perfect for curling up with a volume of poetry. Musing: Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley "The fountains mingle with the river, And the rivers with the ocean; The winds of heaven mix forever, With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle;-- Why not I with thine? See! the mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven, If it disdained it's brother; And the sunlig...

That's the end of this trip and here's a photo taken in Cook's Park in Orange on our next trip when the autumn leaves were at their peak. But you can wait a week to see the rest of the shots from that trip. I've started a new short adventure back home on the Blue Mountains Journal today. See you over there.