We shape our buildings, and afterwards our buildings shape us.

After a week of heavy frosts and bitterly cold mornings, this morning saw me arrive in town faced with a blustery gale and 14°C on the dial. It goes to show that some days you just get of things happening with the weather. Here is a photo of a purple morning sky, a bit of Mount Wellington with a smattering of snow, and a very bright moon, as view through the eucalypts and over Geilston Bay High School's roof.

Don't worry, I am presently process some photo's of [yesterday's] birthday boy, and will post them as they come to hand. He was a lucky lad, and even got a virtual cake all the way from Delhi.

Comments

Tom said…

birthday boy's a cutie! Soon he will be getting into everything...happy 1st!

20 July 2009 at 09:35

yamini said…

I saw the cake, it looked tasty.
Now waiting for the one that Ez actually cut on his birthday and also loads of photos from the birthday celebrations!!!!

20 July 2009 at 14:22

magiceye said…

Happy Birthday to Ezra!!!!
have a great one and many more!!

20 July 2009 at 17:34

Valerie said…

Wonderful shades of purpose in that shot. Loved it.

20 July 2009 at 21:02

Kris McCracken said…

Thanks to all!

21 July 2009 at 10:20

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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