The majority is always wrong; the minority is rarely right.

Sunshine on my shoulder. Franklin Square. March 2012.

Theme Thursday already and it seems clear that we have well and truley had a change of SEASON down here at the arse-end of the world™.

Unfortunately, we appear to have waived goodbye to Summer and are entering into the gloomier mornings of Autumn. I cannot be certain, but I suspect that the shift has triggered a dose of SEASONal affective disorder in the youngest member of the clan. The fact that he is three-years-old and a boy seems to rule out early-onset-menopause as the cause of his sudden cantankerous irritability. Everybody else in the house just seems flat, and I suspect that we won’t snap out of it until the leave shift to a raging red and golden yellow and start committing suicide.

Comments

Mrsupole said…

I think you have one of the best cameras out there. I love all the pictures you take. This picture is a toss up between being in the shade and having the sun shine on you. Really cool.

I dread to have the summer heat come each year since I started menopause. I used to love the heat and hated the cold, now it is the reverse. But Spring and Autumn were always my favorite seasons. SoCal has some of the best weather during those seasons. Sunny during the day, not too hot, but then it cools down in the evenings and is oh so nice. The plants also love it here, which I guess explains why California grows so much of the US produce. Maybe I will try to grow a garden this year. Tomatoes are just not enough.

And you know that ice cream always helps end the cantankerousness.

God bless.

15 March 2012 at 21:45

Janice said…

What a gorgeous photo. I love the way the rays of light are peeking through the foliage.

16 March 2012 at 05:41

Irene said…

Great photo! And I agree all seasonal changes should be accompanied by ice cream.

16 March 2012 at 08:24

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. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

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...

This will hurt me...

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