To plunder, to slaughter, to steal, these things they misname empire; and where they make a wilderness, they call it peace.

Stalactites? We've got a few... Hastings Cave, Huon Valley. June 2011.

Hastings Caves - deep down in the south of Tasmania - was our destination last Saturday. Henry was initially reticent, but once assured that there are no bears in this state (koala's included), he ventured into the subterranean depths...

Stalagmites? Them too... Hastings Cave, Huon Valley. June 2011.

Newdegate Cave is the largest of the Hastings set. in terms of a cavern, it's a big-un! As today is my last day of freedom, we're heading to the east coast for the beach. Don't fret, because I have plenty of cave pics to savour through the day.

Spooky? Absolutely! Hastings Cave, Huon Valley. June 2011.

We spent an hour in Newdegate's massive and varied cavern. Everywhere you turn there's something to look at: flowstone, stalactites, columns, shawls, straws, stalagmites and the unusual helictites that grow in all directions!

Comments

Roddy said…

The speech really wasn't wasted on you. You either have fantastic recall or you were taking notes that I didn't notice

13 June 2011 at 16:34

Kris McCracken said…

I listened.

13 June 2011 at 18:27

Roddy said…

I guess I did too as most of it stuck in my head as well.

13 June 2011 at 20:27

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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