Freedom would be not to choose between black and white but to abjure such prescribed choices

As you will be aware, those of us here in the Southern Hemisphere entered spring last week. I thought that I would allow you to revisit the dominate landmark of Hobart in order to illustrate what constitutes ‘early spring’ in Tasmania.

This was taken this morning at about 7:50 am, yet again out on the fire escape of my workplace. I have featured this same viewpoint once or twice already (well, maybe three or four times), but it looked rather pretty this morning, so I figured that I’d show you again.

And I must add my hearty congratulations to sometime commentator Tania upon the birth of what appears to be a colossal son, Will, who topped the scales at 4.7 kilos (10 pounds, six ounces). The Steenholt organic orchard empire will no doubt be short of many a pear and apple over the coming years once this fellow shifts to solids!

No word yet on the state of his hair.

Comments

Dina said…

I never get tired of seeing your impressive mountain.
Mazal tov to Tania. And congratulations to you on birthing 600 live and lively posts!

Can you tell me if this Tasmanian blobfish is for real?! --
http://zootorah.blogspot.com/2008/09/weird-animals-blobfish.html

10 September 2008 at 04:13

Kris McCracken said…

Dina, he is real, and I think that he is adorable!

10 September 2008 at 12:45

Julie said…

Gee whiz, you have a 7:30am in the morning, too! We have one of them up here.

10 September 2008 at 21:47

Dina said…

Adorable????!!
(But that fish does look like I feel from time to time...)

10 September 2008 at 22:07

Anonymous said…

Thanks very much!
He sure is a whopper... I expect he'll be on solids by this time next week...

13 September 2008 at 10:01

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...

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. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

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