Skip to main content

Grace is to the body what good sense is to the mind.


Continuing the countdown to Henry's birthday, here is the pink little fellow at seventeen days old, relaxing after a feed in his mother's arms. Like a piglet fattened up for market, he's drunk on milk and high on life. Showcasing the folded hands of a Catholic schoolgirl, his manners distinguish him from the much more rugged Ezra, who still likes to get around fists raised.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Hi how are you? I was looking through blogger profiles and noticed similarities, and found your blog interesting to me.

I have an art blog and am looking for new friends who comment and keep coming back are you up to it?

Take care and I value relationships and art obviously but most importantly my type of friends. I hope to see you soon...
Anonymous said…
He looks so big for 17 days!
Lovely photos and I continue to ready your comments with pleasure!!
Congratulations with your more than 700 photos!!
Anonymous said…
Nice photo.
Priyanka Khot said…
yipeeeeeee its a Henry feast here...

I am so glad to be looking at all his photos and reading your commentary.

P.S: India is set to force a follow-on upon Australia :-)

Thought of just rubbing it in. :-D
Priyanka Khot said…
P.P.S: When is Henry's birthday?
Anonymous said…
Wonderful. Peace, the little ones so full of confidence and trust (I hope I have chosen the right words to express what I mean).
Kris McCracken said…
Jesse Mendez, c’mon Jesse, you could have at least pretended to be interested in the content. Flies and vinegar, and all that jazz...

Tania, he was a big ‘un alright.

Blognote, thanks very much, I shall endeavour to find more time to spend on those comments, I’m a bit stretched at the moment.
Kris McCracken said…
Abe, I liked it.

Priyanka, I reckon that it will wind up another dull draw.

Henry’s birthday is on Thursday. In his honour, they have declared it a public holiday. They’ve even decided to call that day “family day” at the Royal Hobart Show. His actual party will be on Sunday though. I intend to get photos.

April, they are exactly the right words!

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.