A crown is merely a hat that lets the rain in.

Just prior to lathering myself in pig fat... Little Howrah Beach, looking west over Hobart. February 2012.

What I like to do on a Watery Wednesday is knock off from work, stick the swimmers on then get my hands on a big jar of pig grease and do a couple of laps around the Derwent Estuary with the wife and kids...

Comments

Judy said…

Love the colours in the sky!

7 March 2012 at 11:19

carol l mckenna said…

Wow! Quite the photo ~ awesome ~ thanks,thanks, namaste, Carol (A Creative Harbor) ^_^

7 March 2012 at 12:15

Photo Cache said…

I'd like to be there right now.

Watery Wednesday

7 March 2012 at 12:23

Hootin Anni said…

That would be a fun way to spend the day...ANY day!!

My watery post link: White Pelican 'chit-chat'

Hope you're having a terrific day!!

7 March 2012 at 23:26

LindyLouMac said…

Calling by as another Watery Wednesday participant, looks inviting.

8 March 2012 at 01:39

Carola said…

I saw this on facebook and I like it. Good idea to show it here. That is the perfect family shot!

Would love to be on there right now.

8 March 2012 at 07:40

Roddy said…

I notice you are only up to your ankles.
Did the little kiddies splash you?

9 March 2012 at 20:51

Monica S Engell said…

Beautiful shot. I like the composition!
:)

15 March 2012 at 03:09

Deborah Kay at The Paint Splash said…

The sky is beauitiful. Not having the family centered really showed the scene off well Hope you can stop by. Visiting from Watery Wednesday. Blessings, Debbie

19 May 2012 at 06:13

Kris McCracken said…

I should admit that I had this on the timer. I set the camera up than made a dash for the water!

Thanks all.

19 May 2012 at 09:05

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. ...

This will hurt me...

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