“Not straight, not so straight” – twisted, in fact. Sticks, and the flames that consume them, cannot keep a straight line.
Bonfires are a regular event here, signalling the end of summer and fire restrictions. It’s also the end of Alex’s tired old thrifted chair – and a sobering reminder of the flammability of foam upholstery!
I made some candle lanterns using glass jars and twisted wire, to add atmosphere and light up the path to the paddock. This one has a hanger made with a found, twisted piece of heavy wire. The marbles around the tea light candle keep it centred and avoid overheating the glass. The jar lid can be popped on when the lantern isn’t in use, to keep the rain out.
This week, share the place where you feel you belong in the world. Or one of them!
I haven’t lived at my mother’s place for well over forty years now, and it’s changed a lot over those years. My dad’s old truck is still there, though – I spent part of my childhood squished in between my parents in that truck – my own place to sit and travel! It’s not going anywhere these days, but the rust and lichen that are overtaking the paintwork look like aerial photos of landscape in some “place in the world”.
Morgan’s Lookout is an unlikely place, a pile of granite tors on top of a hill. It is named after the bushranger who camped out there in the nineteenth century, looking out for travellers to rob.
It commands a marvellous view of the country-side in all directions, especially if you brave the climb to the top of the rocks. I only went part way, up that near-vertical metal ladder…
We have driven past Morgan’s Lookout a couple of times before, but last month, despite being short of time, we turned of the main road and drove through paddocks to reach the hill. There is a picnic table, and a toilet block (presumably drop toilets, I didn’t look!). Alex and I scrambled up between the rocks, and he went all the way to the top. There was a massive deposit of tickle-grass lodged between some of the rocks, and even from halfway, the view out across the plains is impressive. I’m grateful to whoever decided to make the place available to the public, as it is the middle of farmland.
Straight lines in bricks and graph paper, curvy lines in some sort of succulent – growing in the incredible Cactus Country at Strathmerton in Victoria, Australia. If you are ever any where near there, make a bee-line for the garden and cafe, and make sure you order a slice of cactus cake with your coffee!
I’m visiting my daughter and her little family this week (which is why I’m running late on this challenge!), and I thought of sharing some of Juniper’s prolific artwork, or toys, but I’ve been too busy playing (or resting up after playing).
Canberra is blessed with a proliferation of walking tracks and community sports grounds. One morning we loaded up the pram with a picnic and went to a grassy oval to enjoy the autumn sunshine (also prolific, much as we would like to see some rain). Juni was all set to walk the whole perimeter, but a reminder that Mummy had packed biscuits changed her mind! She raced me back, and I didn’t have a hope of catching up.
The awakening theme is inspired by spring’s arrival in the Northern hemisphere. Down here in Southwestern Victoria, autumn is arriving on the tail of a long dry summer.
We had some actual appreciable rain yesterday, but even before that, bulbs have been awakening and pushing up from parched, bare soil.
This little patch of Sternbergia lutea has had no watering at all, yet there have been frail-looking golden cups appearing for weeks.
The Vallota speciosa lives in a pot and gets regular watering – it hasn’t often flowered for me, but I think I might have it in the right spot now. I hope so, anyway!
After the welcome bit of rain on the weekend, grasses have awakened and turned green, to the relief of hungry grazers like this Red-Necked Wallaby in our driveway this morning. I’m hoping that once the grass gets growing, the wallabies will lose interest in my garden. They are browsers as well as grazers, with a taste for exotic plants like rose bushes and strawberry leaves…and the leaves of the spring bulbs that have started to shoot in their autumn awakening.
Smiling for the camera is such a cliche – but catching a genuine smile on film (or in pixels) is lovely. I like to take unposed photos of my grandkids (and my kids, back in the day), with them going about their business. The “look at the camera and say cheese” variety have their place, but I like more natural portraits – and if I capture a smile – bonus! We are going to visit Juniper and Banjo next week – we haven’t seen them in person for months, so whatever next week’s challenge theme is, I may have to work them into it!
Portraying a convincing smile in a painting is harder than catching a smile in a photo, which is why this acrylic has pride of place on my wall.
Sun up, or sun down, that is the challenge…I’m not a morning person, I prefer to avoid dawn, except in winter when the sun also gets up later…
So here are some late-in-the-day spectacular skies. The street scene is in Horsham – not a colourful event, but I liked the quality of the light. The three on the right are all of the same evening, an apocalyptic looking cloud-scape over Ararat. We came out from a movie at the Astor Cinema, to find the light weirdly yellow, as it sometimes is with a storm brewing .The last is taken from the car on the way home – sunset over the Grampians, not that you can tell! It reminds me of a Tim Storrier painting, though.
So, share an other-worldly image, although literally Out-of-this-World is difficult to manage (moon or stars would work, but decent images of celestial bodies require gear and, I suspect, patience, that I don’t have).
The horrid face is a paper mache creation that was consigned to the flames at bottom left. I sifted through the ashes afterwards and only managed to find one of the glass marble eyeballs. I gave up on trying to identify the teeth, since they were small quartz stones that are all over the ground here.
The bottom right image is a detail of naturally dyed fabric. I used metal paper clips as resist – the metal makes the black mark – they look like alien butterflies.