Skip to main content

(My) Photo of the day, Or A cynic is what an idealist calls a realist



Budget lock in this afternoon and evening, so the photo is a little delayed. The sector that I am currently working in fared much better than it had expected, so they should be happy. No doubt though, people will find plenty to complain about, as people inevitably do.

But onto something FAR more interesting, another picture from Burnie. As was a common feature in my first incarnation as a photographer many years ago, I am back down at the Emu River. I failed to get a picture of some platypussies, but did snare plenty of shrubbery.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I appreciate your visit to my page!

Now come check out my new page...
Not Spoiled At All
http://notspoiledatall.blogspot.com/
stromsjo said…
Hey, I'm still busy with my first incarnation! ;)

There's something about water, all sorts of aspects. We're mostly made of it and we long for it.
Olga Levina said…
Hello Kris,

thanks for visiting "I love Tel Aviv"!
You are doing a great job depicting Tasmania!
Kris McCracken said…
Per, I am back to the water all the time. I think you are onto something there...

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut