All my original work on this site is in draft form and is not be reproduced without my permission
But on second thoughts and to take the prompt literally – This old guy’s been around a while. I inherited him from my grandma. He looks ancient but I think it was a repro she bought in the 1960s.
prompt: This Puzzler is simple. Here is a song, you supply the obscurest photo to match the songs title or the lyrics. “All the tired horses” https://bushboy.blog/2024/05/04/the-weekend-puzzler-2/
I seem to have lost the words I write at present. I’ll be back blogging when I find them.
Yesterday I went to the You Yangs with some family members. The You Yangs are the blue hills across the bay which feature in many of my photos. The traditional owners of this country are the Waddarung aboriginal people and the name “You Yang” comes from the Waddarung words Wurdi Youang or Ude Youang which mean “big mountain in the middle of a plain”.
Loaded up with cameras, art supplies and food we set off with my daughter drivingand two boys full of excitment in the back seat of her big vehicle. The older one was prepared for any eventuality and had a backpack full of survival gear including a wooden dagger and some string to make a bow if he needed to get a fire going in an emergency. The younger one who aspires to be an artist when he grows up clutched a sketch book and a freshly sharpened pencil.
Our route took us through a grimy busy city and on through the industrialized suburbs on the outskirts. Once we left the ever expanding housing estates behind it was a short trip up into the hills. Turning into the park we were all silenced by the power of ancient writhing trees and huge granite boulders towering up around the narrow bush tracks.
There were a lot people everywhere as it’s school holidays. We drove around for a while looking for a picnic spot. The heavy rain of the past week had wreaked havoc on the dirt roads and I was really glad we were in my daughter’s big car. My little hatchback wouldn’t have been up to the task.
We finally found a picnic spot that was relatively quiet. There were signs that big bushfire had been through there many years ago. We were surrounded by trees with blackened trunks that had survived the fires and other hollowed dead ones that towered like sentinels.
Wandering around with my camera I was struck with the relationship between the grey gnarled trees and the grey granite boulders.
There is a solemnity to this country and an inspirited quality that speaks of endurance and resilience. There is an ancient feel to the place that is stronger than the impact of the roads, walking trails, biking tracks and rubbish left behind by ignorant people. People have walked this land for eons. The aboriginal presence is strong and the trees feel like embodied spirits.
Later in the day we drove a one way road that took us over the ridgetops and around the far eastern flank of the hills.
The road was in a very bad state so once we were down on the flat my daughter pulled over beside a little water hole. Not many people come this far into the park so we had the place to ourselves.
None of us were in any hurry to head back through that busy city so we got out the art supplies and attempted to draw the world around us. The results were highly variable but we had a lot of fun until the late afternoon chill crept into our bones and it was time to head home.
Back to the mundane
after time in wild country
the heart feels lighter.
linked to – https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2024/04/april.html
After the driest March on record April 1 bought rain. Some places had their average April rainfall in one day.
For the first time in months we have puddles.
The trees have a washed clean look.
A photo essay from south east Australia
With the sky like a scrap of hand dyed indigo cloth, autumn creeps into my days.
It’s been a strange summer – disconcerting. Directions haven’t been clear.
I spent some time chasing waterfalls
and for a while there things looked pretty dodgy
The fishermen at the end of the pier seemed equally perplexed
while things didn’t appear any clearer underneath it all.
In places water and nourishment have completely dried up
yet off in the bush the bees are hard at work.
Even though the seasons are turning towards winter
there are signs of new growth.
Where I live now:-
I’ve been sorting through photos I’ve taken over the past few years. It wasn’t until I did this that I realised I have taken a number of photos that go some way towards expressing something of the essence of the area I now live in.
All too often, these past few years, I’ve been either caught up in the drama of these times or stuck in some kind of weird limbo state where the sky is grey, the roads are grey, the buildings are grey and life is generally humdrum.
Underneath this odd mix of stress and boredom I sometimes sense something else. Some deeper pulse. Some essence – perhaps even a spirit of place. The words that describe this are elusive – dreamy or perhaps dreaming yes – but it’s not always a pleasant dream – there’s a sense of mystery that speaks of something greater than or other than human endeavours.
I’d love to know what words come to your mind when you look at the photos. Maybe we can collectively come to some words that describe this elusive energy.
I’ll keep going with this project and post more photos as I find them in my archives.
Wayfaring 