MORE rain means MORE reflections. MORE reflections means MORE photographs of things in puddles.
Here are a few buildings and a 4WD down on Hobart's waterfront the other morning.
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
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We also are waiting for more rains here in Delhi.
And, we are also waiting for more photographs from Ezra's birthday party. :-))
We had a sprinkle here today but that is all. Keep waiting...and hoping. Just want the dams to fill for summer.
We told him we had just driven in from Strahan and he said he had never quite made it to the West Coast for a visit. It is a 4 hr drive.
That astounds me. It really does.