He – Red Capped Robin

I don’t know why my husband and I felt compelled to stop at the old cemetery on that fateful blustery day.  Maybe it was our shared sense of impending doom.  Maybe we were tempting fate.  We certainly didn’t go there to take photos.  So maybe it was intuition, a guiding hand.  The power of the robin.  He.  Red-capped robin. Read more

Dream Lover

When I first started blogging, I realised I had to take some photos to accompany my words.  Now, after nearly two years of blogging (how is that possible?), I search for words to accompany my photos.  This blogging business has also re-ignited my True Love’s passion for his own photography.  He hasn’t been this happy in a long time.  Maybe we will find what we are looking for someday. Read more

The End Is Nigh My Flower

One must not be subtle or delicate about climate emergencies.

Who shall dry my tears
when the flowers are gone?
Not the morally bankrupt,
nor the weekend warriors.
Caught in your own bubble
of flattery and deceit.
Walk into my parlour.  Take
your seat. Parliament is now in session
and treachery abounds.
Watch your step, watch your back,
said the spider to the clown.
What goes around, comes around.
Earth, she will not wait. Read more

Camouflage Or Sabotage?

Today I have some clandestine photos to share with you, dear Readers.  Provided on a need-to-know basis.  Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.  The subjects are well camouflaged.

I recently went on a short walk with my son for the purpose of some online activity.  Suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of a bird of prey.  “What was that?” I exclaimed.  “Oh yeah,” my son said, “two sparrow-hawks nest in those pine trees over there.”  To say I was indignant, Ladies and Gentlemen, was a total understatement.  I demanded to know why this information had been withheld from me.  Was the information top-secret, only to be disclosed to those who ‘need-to-know’?  Well, no.  He just forgot.  Can you really believe that? Read more

Keepsake

In the interests of posting more flower photos and sharing memories, I present to you some rose photos.

I have four lovely rose bushes at my house.  All but one was given to us.  One by our mum/mum-in-law — a treasured possession.  Friends gave us another (Homage to Barbara) when she (the mother-in-law, not the friend) died.  Ever practical, like the woman herself, the flower heads just drop off when they are done.  Barb would have appreciated the joke.  The third rose was also given to us by a friend.  It was one of the roses planted in the Rose Gardens at Old Parliament House (Canberra), but it was culled from the garden to make way for more healthy stock.  Their loss, our gain, don’t you think? Read more