Skip to main content

I and this mystery here we stand.


I am endeavouring to give you a bit of a tour of the Russell Falls section of the exquisite Mount Field National Park. The good thing about this section is that it is accessible by paved walking track, this means that toddlers and babies can make the trek without too much difficulty. Here you can see Jen and Ez on the track that leads to the falls. As you can see, you could even get in with a wheelchair.

Comments

Roddy said…
Is that a young Tasmanian tiger I spy in the pouch, being so cleverly carried by Jen?
yamini said…
Yipppeeeeee!!!! We got to see Jen after so long.

Rather than calling Ez the mystery (which I guess u intended in the title), i think it is Jen who is more of the mystery for us visitors to your blog.

She has a certain elusive quality around herself.

Do tell her this. and the next photograph of the two short pigtails on Jen's head and the impish smile of Ezra are awesome too.

You are one lucky guy, really!!!!
KL said…
Come on! don't insult Henry. Though he is a toddler, but he doesn't need that road. Being a brave adventurer, he can mount any obstacles and climb any road.
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, no, that's Ezra. You must be on drugs.
Kris McCracken said…
Yamini, I post as many as she lets me.
Kris McCracken said…
KL, poor old Henry. He has a rough life.
Roddy said…
Kris, only the ones prescribed to keep me alive. And only low doses at that, thankfully.
Keep an open mind, he may one day play for the Tassie Tigers.
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, one can only hope.

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...

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. ...