(My) photo of the day

There is no need to go to work today because it's Good Friday, so I've dug into the thousands of photos we've taken over the past year to find one to put on the blog that might reflect life in Hobart.

I've chosen this one taken in November, on a warm Saturday afternoon spent shifting a very large pile of rocks from one side of our garden to another, only then to decide that I didn't like the way it looked and shifting them back again. All great fun, I can assure you.

Anyway, Henry spent most of the time in a observational capacity, offering a little advice here and there. I offered him the shovel to help out, and took this picture of him contemplating a life of manual labour. I think that it was at this point he decided that 'benevolent dictator' might be more up his alley!

Comments

Anonymous said…

A nice photo: the lines horizontal and vertical and then the cute little boy with the too big shovel.

21 March 2008 at 09:42

Col said…

Brilliant! And hilarious! I don't know where you get the inspiration for this kind of thing, but I wish I could get it too. I find i'm too tied up in messing about with my mates to get anything really serious (but fun) done. Good on you!

21 March 2008 at 11:23

The D in D & T said…

Henry is absolutely gorgeous - those cheeks!! :)

22 March 2008 at 02:25

Mary Stebbins Taitt said…

An absolutely wonderful photos, very sweet and cute, and a funny little blurb to go with it! :-D HAPPY EASTER!

22 March 2008 at 09:28

Nihal said…

So cute baby Henry, pure and innocent:) May God be with him always.

22 March 2008 at 22:47

Kris McCracken said…

He is work shy though, and prefers to try and coast on good looks alone!

27 March 2008 at 08:26

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

This will hurt me...

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