The wisdom of the wise and the experience of the ages are perpetuated by quotations.

Just out the front. East Derwent Highway, Geilston Bay. March 2011.

The photo shows late afternoon in Geilston as the sun makes a last hurrah before the shift back from Daylight Saving kicks us all in the guts.

I enjoy Daylight Saving. There is something about arriving home from work with a little bit of sunshine that puts a spring in your step. Conversely, leaving home for work in the dark, and arriving home from work in the dark, can be a little demoralising. What’s been the point of the day if all you have to show for it are the fruits of wage slavery?

Comments

Sue said…

I dislike it most when I emerge from the innards of the office... blinking and covering my eyes from the strange glowing orb in the sky with the cool/warm breeze caressing my dry, parched skin!
I am luckier than you I think though, as I arrive home maybe one or two minutes later! Just in time to spend the remaining minutes of the dying daylight cooking dinner and putting the washing on! Oh the joy!

31 March 2011 at 22:46

Roddy said…

I too will miss the extra daylight when I get home.
I am in wet and storm battered Queensland at present and don't have the advantage of daylight saving.
I am presently sitting waiting to arrive in Brisbane somewhere around 3 am. What joy it would be to actually tie this ship up in daylight.
My day should end somewhere around 5 am.
That was yesterday! Today starts again at 8 am.
I hope you can figure that out!

31 March 2011 at 23:42

Kris McCracken said…

Sue, it's cruel. It generally takes me at least 45 minutes to get home though (depending on the buses).

Roddy, poor old Queensland.

1 April 2011 at 08:41

Roddy said…

No. I actually think it is the peoples fault. Somehow I don't think we should have tampered with nature.

1 April 2011 at 16:00

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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