This morning, at the Eagle Height’s bakery, I was told by the owner of the house behind the tree with the first ‘green man’ apparition, that neither he or his wife created it. See FILM DIARY of 14.11.22 below. My conjecture about who made it and the recent apparition on a tree further down the street, has no supporting evidence. Their origin remains a mystery.
Years ago, a unit owner, long dead, planted three trees, two next to the road out front and one next to the retaining wall in the backyard. They all flourished, growing to an impressive size. The two in the front are a buckinghamia, whose flowers have a fragrant aroma, and a golden rain tree which sheds its leaves and flowers on the cars parked beneath it. The tree in the backyard has for years dropped its seed pods and squishy, tubular white flowers onto the lid of the inground tank and the washing on the clothes hoist which is fixed to the lid, not to mention the bird poo which also soils the washing. The material falls for several months of the year. But the biggest nuisance are the roots which have moved part of the base of the retaining wall and grown between one of the protective buttresses we installed, and the wall. Nearly as bad is the fact that the tree casts a shadow over the clothes hoist, when the sun is at its highest. I wonder what the late owner was thinking, when he planted the tree. I have always been outvoted on removing it, but… Read Complete Text
I attended the launch of Julie Lake’s book on Hilda Geissmann who was born in Brisbane in 1890 but lived most of her life on the mountain. She married a Curtis. The Geissmanns and Curtises were two of the mountain’s most prominent pioneering families. In her twenties and thirties, she closely observed and photographed the mountain’s flora and fauna with considerable artistry and in so doing became a social pioneer in a predominantly man’s world. The launch was well-attended. Julie was the star and the afternoon tea was a close second. I bought three signed copies of the book. Am greatly looking forward to reading it.
This is an unusual post because it is as much about human creativity as that of the natural world. On this morning’s walk, I noticed and photographed a face on a flooded gum tree which had all the hall marks of the most inventive entry in the recently concluded 2022 scarecrow festival, though it had nothing to do with the festival. The face occupied the slightly raised area left by a large branch which had broken off from the trunk, a few metres from the ground. Flooded gums are ubiquitous up here, some of the mightiest specimens attaining great heights in our national parks. The face resembled the folkloric image of the green man, though incorporating strips of brown bark instead of green leaves. PS A friend told me about a face on another flooded gum in the same street, which is marginally not on the route of my walk, and had been there for many years. Its creator didn’t need a ladder to fashion the face. The second face was probably inspired by the first, but did require quite a long ladder.
Knowing my desire to visit Yosemite National Park and Monument Valley next year, Simon emailed me a media release about United Airlines inaugural direct flight from San Francisco to Brisbane. This makes my trip all the more feasible.
Every indication, when I left home on October 7, was that the weather wouldn’t pause the trip, though in the two or three preceding weeks, this seemed a real possibility. Because of the departure time of the Saturday flight to Longreach, I overnighted at the airport. The road trip was scheduled to start on the 10th, giving me a weekend at home with Simon & Nicole, except that Nicole was absent on business and due to return on the 9th. Because they did the driving, I insisted on paying for the fuel. Very generously, they let me sit in the front, ignoring my readiness to sit in the back. The great attraction about this trip was the series of firsts that it guaranteed. That there was a bonus first was more than one could ask for. It happened before we got to Winton in the form of a large mob of cattle grazing by the side of the road. It looked as if the drovers had set up camp here, more likely they were having a break. None of us had seen the like.
We were heading for Boulia. Ever since reading about the Middleton hotel on the… Read Complete Text
I left home on June 23 and returned on July 29. Even ignoring the six, as opposed to the normal two-year interval between journeys, this trip was shaping to be unlike any other. The time and then the cost of producing my book, followed by the pandemic, accounted for the gap. Given its length, I suspected that it would give rise to unexpected changes, regardless of Covid. I was conscious of the need to make up for lost time. My focus was on re-uniting with family and friends. The death of my beloved cousin Leila in 2019 meant that there was no longer a need to stay in London for two weeks. The apartment in Belsize Park wasn’t available, so I booked into a conveniently located hotel for eight nights. Clive, who turned 75 two weeks before my departure, agreed to put up with me for a week which included a two-night stay in Cornwall. I was now in the fortunate position of realising a long-held desire to book an eight-day Rhine cruise from Amsterdam to Basel. Also, I had vowed to visit Bruges the next time I was in Europe, so I added a two-night stay there. I… Read Complete Text
Gina handed over my tickets and vouchers – tickets for flights and rail travel, vouchers for accommodation, car transfers and the Rhine cruise. I leave on June 23. The rail pass is only available as an app. I have hard copies of the six days for which I have seat reservations, but the remaining four days appear to be out of reach. In reality, I will have to go to the rail travel office at St Pancras Station today week, to sort matters out and expect to put up with a long wait. A complicating factor is the rail and tube strikes currently occurring in the UK. Ah, the joys of travel, but then, I stubbornly refuse to have a smart phone.
A pair of tawny frogmouths were perched on my balcony when I drew my curtain this morning. I took several photos as they moved their heads culminating in a pose with open beak, which I have never previously seen. Frogmouths are an attractive subject both because of their striking appearance and their quirky behaviour, such as sitting in the middle of the road at night. Although they look like owls and are nocturnal, frogmouths are not raptors. They lack talons and a beak capable of ripping flesh. Instead, they catch their insect prey on the wing. They are found throughout mainland Australia and Tasmania. When I closed the curtain in the evening, the birds were still there. Next morning, they were gone.
This morning I paid Gina for my accommodation in Amsterdam (both before and after the cruise) and Bruges, and transfers from airport to hotel, hotel to railway station and hotel to boat. On May 4 I paid for the rail pass, after a lot of toing and froing to allow for sufficient time to change trains while avoiding having to linger between trains.