Not only do I not know what's going on, I wouldn't know what to do about it if I did.

As summer disappears into the fog of memory, I look back with some regret at the heady days spent at the beach over the past four or five months. Oh the warm weather! The surf! The fine looking birds ~~in bikinis~~!

Alas, it is behind us now. All I can do is gaze longingly at snaps taken at Opossum Bay, trying to avoid the teardrops from shorting out the laptop.

Featured here (in both normal and panoramic form) is Opossum Bay, sans possums.

Which, inevitably, leads me to today's Sunday Top Five; the Top Five Beaches That We Visited This Summer!

* Seven Mile Beach

* Clifton Beach

* Opossum Bay, South Arm Peninsula

* Fossil Bluff, Wynyard

* West Beach, Burnie

Comments

Roddy said…

It of course has to be West Beach, Fossil Bluff and then take your pick. The first two only because they are close to your birth place.
The worst thing about beaches! Sand! It gets in everything. I can live without it.

28 March 2010 at 09:15

Magpie said…

I love the blues in the first photo. So are you full blown into autumn now?

28 March 2010 at 09:34

Tom said…

hey, you've been hoggin' the summer? Send a little this way, pleeeeez

28 March 2010 at 10:30

Kris McCracken said…

Summer has well and truly passed us now. It's a grey old Good Friday morning today.

2 April 2010 at 08:29

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.

This will hurt me...

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