Skip to main content

(My) Photo of the day


I'm not sure who took these two today, Jen or Henry. Jen is claiming them, and Henry is keeping quiet about it, but they do have his touch of class about them. Anyway, it was taken on their belated trip to the Steenholt Ranch in the deep south of Tasmania near Geeveston, which is about sixty kilometers south of Hobart, right into the southern part of the Huon Valley. They stopped along the gorgeous Huon River to take a few snaps for me to share with the world.

Now, I would never be so cruel to cast aspersions on any region of the state - because I'm just not that sort of fellow - but I have heard other, less considerate folk say that they hear the faint echo of dueling banjos each time they head down this way. Yet Henry and Jenry emerged intact from their journey, well stocked with banana passionfruit and choc-chip cookies.

This tells me that what other people say about the strange goings-on amongst the reclusive, anti-one world government crowd that seem to gather in the mists and shadows of the valley simply cannot be true! Time will tell when the global revolution and resource wars begin!



[If any Huon-based separatist rebels with access to a huge stockpile of arms are reading, stewing and consequently looking to 'take out' detractors and/or critics, please, I have a family to support, it's all in jest!]

Comments

bitingmidge said…
Is it the Huon Valley where I bought that tee shirt with five holes?

One for my waist, two for my arms and two for my .. no, sorry, that's just a cruel joke!

P
Sunshine Coast Daily - Australia
Anonymous said…
naughty naughty
I gather you enjoyed your reading...
Anonymous said…
By the way - on the banjo front - aren't you from BURNIE?
Pot, Kettle, Black
Kris McCracken said…
Most of the loons that can be found down south are ring ins from elsewhere, headed to all ends of the Earth before the apocalypse if you listen to them!

I wish that I was just reading this morning, unfortunately I was writing this presentation to Monday's conference. I'm attempting to find that tricky balance of 'telling necessary home truths' and 'not alienating every person in the room by calling them idiots'.

As for the bitter little aside about the lovely Burnie, we may not have some fancy pants murals, but I will have you know that my home town was proclaimed - in person - a city by the Grace of God, through the auspice of the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories, Head of the Commonwealth and Defender of the Faith, Her Majesty Elizabeth II.

The Huon could only dream of such a classy turn of events. So to use your tawdry analogy, it is perhaps more a case of the Fabergé egg calling the dirty old dishcloth grey!
Anonymous said…
touchy touchy
geeveston said…
looks like the sleeping beauty
the deep south is an escape and is being discovered.
and its warmer than sheffield.
Kris McCracken said…
I've long been a fan of the Huon Valley, and Geeveston in particular. That's why I've clearly described those narrow-minded bigots who cast aspersions on the region as exactly that.

For my money, Geeveston is a top five Tassie town for beauty, and well worth a stop on the way to the Airwalk (a visit to which should be mandatory for everybody who enters the state, and quite a few who already live here).

I think that I will have to do a ‘special feature’, or at least open it up to volunteers who what to promote their hometown.

That said, there are a few odd folk who’ve chosen to relocate. Much like the bigamists that appear to have chosen the back of Wynyard as an ideal place for their compound!
Anonymous said…
Hey Geeveston (I know who you are too Laurie ;) ) I don't really know that Geevo is warmer than Sheffield having lived in both places.... But it surely is a gorgeous place!

Kris - I'll be in the Geevo promotion! How is the presentation going??

Will keep you updated on the refugees....
Anonymous said…
That's a gorgeous picture! Stunning countryside (odd locals notwithstanding!).

Popular posts from this blog

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...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.