(My) photo of the day

There is no need to go to work today because it's Good Friday, so I've dug into the thousands of photos we've taken over the past year to find one to put on the blog that might reflect life in Hobart.

I've chosen this one taken in November, on a warm Saturday afternoon spent shifting a very large pile of rocks from one side of our garden to another, only then to decide that I didn't like the way it looked and shifting them back again. All great fun, I can assure you.

Anyway, Henry spent most of the time in a observational capacity, offering a little advice here and there. I offered him the shovel to help out, and took this picture of him contemplating a life of manual labour. I think that it was at this point he decided that 'benevolent dictator' might be more up his alley!

Comments

Anonymous said…

A nice photo: the lines horizontal and vertical and then the cute little boy with the too big shovel.

21 March 2008 at 09:42

Col said…

Brilliant! And hilarious! I don't know where you get the inspiration for this kind of thing, but I wish I could get it too. I find i'm too tied up in messing about with my mates to get anything really serious (but fun) done. Good on you!

21 March 2008 at 11:23

The D in D & T said…

Henry is absolutely gorgeous - those cheeks!! :)

22 March 2008 at 02:25

Mary Stebbins Taitt said…

An absolutely wonderful photos, very sweet and cute, and a funny little blurb to go with it! :-D HAPPY EASTER!

22 March 2008 at 09:28

Nihal said…

So cute baby Henry, pure and innocent:) May God be with him always.

22 March 2008 at 22:47

Kris McCracken said…

He is work shy though, and prefers to try and coast on good looks alone!

27 March 2008 at 08:26

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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