A Visit to Sydney Modern – An Extension to the Art Gallery of NSW.

My goodness! Writing up these posts about our three week stint in Sydney seems to be taking longer than our holiday itself, a situation hardly helped by my knack of over-researching each and every step I take and even taking flight on the wings of numerous stories.

While some would consider delving into the past like this a waste of time or an escape from the present, for me these places really come to life when you find out more about them and their assorted characters. Indeed, even the multifarious fragments of stories I’ve been gathering are riveting and while they might not make a full story in themselves, I’m hoping to join them together into some sort of conglomerate or word collage. We’ll see.

New Zealand artist Francis Upritchard’s Here Comes Everybody

Meanwhile, heading back to the 19th January, I caught the ferry to Circular Quay and the train to St James Station and started walking towards the Art Gallery of New South Wales and it’s new development, Sydney Modern, which is located conveniently next door. Sydney Modern, which is its temporary name, only opened on the 3rd December, 2022. So, it had only been open for about six weeks and it was brand spanking new. Moreover, being our long school Summer holidays, quite a few of my friends had been going and photos were turning up on Facebook which motivated me to overlook the long walk to get there.

And I thought I had big feet…!

My thoughts about Sydney Modern are that it’s massive with vast amounts of space in between works and my feeling was they could’ve moved the paintings closer together and squeezed a few more works up on the wall and there would be more to see. Of course, this is coming from someone whose personal style is “cluttered eclectic” and I’m always trying to squeeze more books into overcrowded book shelves and don’t even talk to me about getting photos up on the walls at home. I have stacks upon stacks of picture frames and I’d probably be able to fill Sydney Modern myself given half the chance. So, I’m hardly one who would leave plenty of room or “pasture” around a painting on a wall. Being a public gallery, I might not want to jam it all in and I’m coming to appreciate the virtues of blank space. Yet, I did feel they could fit more onto the walls without it becoming less.

Darren Siwes: Jingli Kwin

Marlene Rubuntja: “Woman & Dilly Bags Hat 2019

Grace Lillian Lee: Belonging 3

Lin Onus: “Fruit Bats” 1991.

Before I developed these theories on gallery hanging space, I visited the Aboriginal gallery within Sydney Modern – the Yiribana Gallery, which actually takes pride of place in the new gallery instead of being shut away in the boondocks like it was in the old building. How could a country marginalise the art and culture of its Indigenous people? I don’t know and I guess it’s just part of a broader picture of things I don’t understand. My thinking is too simple. Anyway, I really enjoyed being able to immerse myself in Aboriginal art there and gain a greater appreciation, even if I have a long way to go. If you would like to explore the Yiribana Gallery online, click HERE

Just on this first visit, I didn’t really get a good feel for the new building and barely scratched the surface. However, if you’d like to read more about it, here’s a link: Opening of the Sydney Modern Project.

An awkward selfie of me with my lump of clay and contribution to the work.

Before we leave Sydney Modern, I’d just like to share one last thing which was more of an experiential or “participatory” artwork. This was Kimsooja’s Archive of Mind. Visitors to the gallery were given the opportunity to make their own albeit small contribution by taking a lump of clay, rolling it into a ball which was left on a large table becoming part of a a community of balls. We could choose from three different coloured clay and it was meant to be a bit of a relaxing, mindfulness type experience and there’s a brief explanation about what the work’s about:

“Each person has their space and time, but the work also creates a communal space. Working towards a certain state of mind creates a kind of cosmic landscape, a mind-galaxy

– Kimsooja, Korea 1957-

Personally, I found it rather exciting to go to the art gallery and make art or perhaps it’s more of a sculpture myself and to be a contributor and not just a watcher of art. I was also reminded of visiting the art gallery with our son when he was just shy of turning five. We were walking back home across The Domain after visiting the gallery and he found a great big Autumn leaf on the ground. Being a preschooler, he knew all about making leaf prints from Autumn leaves and wanted to take the leaf back to the art gallery so they could make one. He was so enthusiastic. I felt a bit too self-conscious to return to the art gallery with his leaf and explained that the gallery displayed art rather than making it there. Had we gone back, I’m sure the staff would’ve accepted his leaf with grace (unlike his mother) and there’s part of me now that wishes I’d turned back and had more belief in him.

Heading home, I decided to walk back to Circular Quay via the Botanic Gardens instead of walking back to St James Station. Transport wise, the art gallery is in a tricky spot and it’s a fair hike to a station. However, I planned to take it slowly, a bit at a time, and rest along the way and thought I’d be okay. I wasn’t and the walk back to Circular Quay was grueling. It felt like I’d been walking for an eternity and then I finally reached a map and it showed I was only a third of the way through and my legs were aching, exhausted, dead weights. However, I’d unwittingly committed myself to coming out the other side and everywhere I looked there were prohibitive flights of stairs. Tall trees towered overhead and there were moments where I was starting to feel trapped, and like I’d never make it out the other side. I also have a pretty poor sense of direction which didn’t help either and with such limited energy, I couldn’t afford to get lost and even take one more step more than required. Indeed, I was looking for the short cut out.

I guess this is what they call biting off more than you can chew. Moreover, the trouble is you can’t always spit it all out and make everything manageable again. Sometimes, you’re caught up in the flow and all you can do is keep breaking it down into smaller chunks, rest, recover and think about all those powerfully motivating words like resilience, persistence, perseverance, determination, never giving up. Another thing which also would’ve helped is planning ahead, and having some appreciation of not only getting to my destination, but also getting home. Sometimes you can push yourself too far, which is actually counter-productive and even dangerous. You don’t always need to be a hero, and some times being a survivor is good enough.

No escape from the Botanical Gardens for those who can’t get up the stairs lol.

Obviously, I made it out alive and didn’t get lost in the Botanical Gardens for eternity either. Yippee! Mind you, I can’t say that I really learned to be more cautious about pacing myself, but more of that to come.

Have you been to the Sydney and what did you think? Or, have you been on a similar adventure over in your neck of the woods? If so, I’d love to hear from you.

Best wishes,

Rowena

A Swim At MacCallum Pool, Cremorne Reserve, Sydney Harbour.

If you’ve been following my posts, you’ll know that I was house minding for a friend at Cremorne Point for three weeks in January, and we exchanged texts while she was away including one rather pertinent text: “Have you been to MacCallum Pool yet?” At this point, we’d been to Circular Quay and around The Rocks, off to Manly on the Northern headland and Watson’s Bay on the South but aside from a quick visit when we picked up the key in December, we hadn’t been to MacCallum Pool and I certainly hadn’t been for a swim.

MacCallum Pool has the best views and it’s free of charge open to the public.

So, this swim was clearly overdue and I didn’t want her arriving home and having to confess I couldn’t get around the corner. After having a quiet day having coffee with a friend, I hoped I had plenty of oomph for a swim and set off on the short walk to the pool. The only trouble was that I needed to walk home uphill, which I knew was going to be challenging for my lungs, and so I had to take it slowly in the pool. Pace myself.

Wow!

Actually, I took it very slowly getting in the pool, which is an unfortunate fault of mine. I’m one of those comical characters who agonise their way into the water starting with their big toe and taking forever to put their head underwater if they do at all. Just to compound my shame, there was a group of teenaged boys beside me who really must’ve thought I looked ridiculous. However, in my book I was a champion even for getting wet, and pleased I was able to do two laps (conserving my energy for the walk home, of course).

A Photographer’s Paradise

While Mac Callum Pool was built with a view to swimming, it also makes for amazing photography and I was much more in my element on that front and I’ve also done a much better job at excavating stories about the history of the pool from the old newspapers online (Trove). I will write them up in a separate post as I need to put some thought into that.

Have you ever been to MacCallum Pool and do you have any stories to tell?

Best wishes,

Rowena

A Walk To Cremorne Point Reserve, Sydney.

Last night, I received a sudden wake up call. While writing up about our three week holiday house minding at Cremorne Point, I’d become seriously waylaid in Watson’s Bay consumed by back story after back story after back story, which we writers and researchers colloquially call a “rabbit warren”. I really loved Watson’s Bay and I was also drawn into it’s history via Christina Stead’s first novel Seven Poor Men of Sydney, which was set there. However, it was now time to get back on the ferry and had back to Cremorne Point and onto the next day’s events.

Sydney Harbour Looking towards the Heads from Cremorne Road.

After coffee with a friend and meeting up with our son at Circular Quay and catching the ferry back together, I decided to go for a swim at MacCallum Pool located in Cremorne Point Reserve. However, before we get to the pool, we’re going to walk down Cremorne Road and I’ll share a few stellar views along the way. While I was doing this walk just before sunset on this occasion, I’ve also included some photos from a previous walk so you can see what the reserve looks like during daylight. I’d also like to emphasise that Cremorne Point offers an excellent vantage point to watch the sun set on Sydney Harbour and the reserve itself is a great place to watch it over a casual picnic.

Meanwhile, I’d just like to let you know that Cremorne Point was originally known as Wulworra-Jeung by the Cammeraygal, the Aboriginal people who inhabited the land on the lower northern shores of Port Jackson prior to the arrival of Europeans. Initially known as Robertson’s Point, it became known as Cremorne after the Cremorne Pleasure Gardens which were established in 1856. Although they only survived six years, the name stuck. There were attempts to mine coal at Cremorne Point and to sell off the harbourside land which was declared the reserve in 1905 but thankfully resistance conserved the natural beauty of Cremorne Point for the future and for all.

Magnificence everywhere you turn!

While my photos brilliantly capture and share Cremorne Point’s captivating natural beauty, and sensational views of the harbour and ethereal skies, they fail to relate my personal struggle. As I’ve mentioned before, I have dodgy lungs and 50% lung capacity and struggle to get up hills, stairs or even gentle slopes on a bad day. Unfortunately, Cremorne Point is quite hilly which is fine when I’m walking down to the point, but at best “a challenge” walking back up. I’d had trouble getting back up the hill when we’d previously done the walk to MacCallum Pool.

How incredibly relaxing!

However, I’d been doing more walking and thought I might just pull it off. Besides, the pool was only round the corner. If I took it slowly, I’d be fine. The only trouble is that I wasn’t. I’d got myself into deep water and with no other way to get home, I had to keep going. Every single step at this point was like moving feet of lead and my breathing was very strained. What I also didn’t know at this point, was that there had been a botch up with my prescription and I’d been on half the prescribed dose on and off for a year and the muscle weakness was returning. I was battling extreme shortness of breath on top of muscle weakness and I really did feel like I was about to break down. Although I did make it back, I have no doubt doing that walk was a mistake.

Sunset from Cremorne Point Reserve

Yet, at the same time, the photographer in me not only loves and cherishes the photos I took on that walk, but also the experience of merging with that magnificent sunset over the harbour and becoming one which invigorated my soul as well as my senses.

Hope you enjoy my journey and I’ll be back with a focus on MacCallum Pool in my next post.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Manly Flash Back 1899 -Manly: The Queen Of Australian Watering Places

Doubtless, there’s no shortage of historic newspaper accounts of daytrips to Manly or descriptions of the place. However, not all of them are so well illustrated and I appreciated how this story in the Australian Town & Country Journal from 1899 covered some of the businesses in town as well and added people to the scene, which made t much more personal.

So, here goes….

Manly – The Queen Of Manly is to Sydney what Brighton is to London -the people’s. watering place. It is the resort par excellence of holiday-makers. On New Year’s Day-or, more correctly, January 2, for the year opened on Sunday-the five steamers of the Port Jackson Co-operative Company carried, exclusive of season ticket holders, no less than 22,000 people to the deservedly popular suburb. Not only is Manly the objective point of pleasure seekers at holiday times, but all through the summer season it is visited by hundreds, sometimes thousands, daily. A more ideal place for family picnics would be hard to find. Juveniles delight in the magnificent ocean and harbour beaches, the merry-go-rounds, the splendid baths, the fishing, the rambles by rocky glens and fairy bowers, and other attractions which make up the sum total of a day’s outing at Manly. Young ladles, while their male acquaintances are at work in the city, slip down there for afternoon tea and gossip, and in the evening, when the labour of the day is over, a “blow” on the harbor, and a walk on the ocean promenade with sweetheart, wife, or sister, has become almost as much a part of the city denizen’s existence as his pipe or newspaper. As the recreation haunt of the metropolis, Manly has steadily and satisfactorily increased its attractions, considering our somewhat tardy recognition of its advantages and possibilities. A good band is badly wanted, or, for the matter of that, two bands, one for the (harbour) Esplanade, and another for the (ocean) Parade. Occasionally the Port Jackson Company secure the services of a band for the Esplanade, and the popularity which attends these performances points to the desirability of establishing the band as a permanent institution.

Though it is only with-in the last three or four years that Manly has come to be known and appreciated at its proper worth, the now more than village has been growing nearly half a century. There are still one or two Manlyites who remembered the narrow isthmus which connect North Head with the mainland as a scrubby waste with rude tracks leading here and there to the ten or twelve, cottage residences, where lived as many families, the sole population of the neighborhood forty odd years ago. Mr. Henry Gilbert Smith, the proprietor of the estate, had a house on the hill where now stands Dalley’s “Castle,” or “Folly,” as the unfinished pile has been called, and of the other residents one or two were “some-thing in the city,” and the remainder were mostly fishermen. Communication with the city was maintained by the Parramatta steamers, which plied from the wharf at the foot of Erskine-street, and made two trips a day in fine weather, and whenever was convenient-perhaps but one trip a week in bad weather. A return fare then cost 3s. The steamers of those days were the Victoria, Black Swan, Pelican; and Emu, comparatively small craft, but capable of covering the distance-something over seven miles-in three quarters of an hour. To-day we have those fine saloon steamers Brighton, Manly, Fairlight, Narrabeen, and Brightside, which make the run a slightly shorter one certainly, in 35 minutes (the Manly does it in 25), and are together capable of transporting with, comfort 5000 people in one trip, or an average of 1000 per steamer. Instead of the two trips a day. there are now twenty-seven from each end, and fair weather or foul the service is maintained with the regularity of the English mail. Such a service as this, such fine steamers, and such cheap fares, is unexcelled anywhere.

In other respects also great strides have been made. The little fishing village has become, perhaps, the most picturesque watering place on the Australian seaboard. Nature has done nearly everything for Manly. The residents have done the rest. They built the Corso, the main thoroughfare connecting the harbor beach with that of the ocean, and as population grew, cut up the land on either side into residential blocks, planted shady trees by the way-side, created a park and recreation reserve, constructed the Esplanade, and defined the Ocean Parade, the completion of which the local council will, doubtless, leave as a legacy to a future generation of aldermen. More might have been done but for the circumstance that the Municipality of Manly, like most similar bodies in this country, finds itself hampered by monetary considerations.

The village had grown into a township, but the atmosphere of the village still clung round it. Manly was at best a dead and alive sort of place. Families who could afford, it sojourned there during the summer months, but the eighteen penny fare which obtained was not calculated to encourage permanent residents, and even the holiday fare of 1s seldom brought more than a few thousand visitors on any single occasion. A stimulus was wanting to galvanise the place into activity, and it came two or three years ago, when a number of influential residents, failing to se-cure a reduction in fares from the Port Jackson Company, organised, and ran an opposition line of steamers, at the ridiculously low rate of 3d. The competition which ensued was keen and suicidal, but “all’s well that ends well,” and Manly, as the saying is, has never looked back since. The great public having once tasted of the joys of a trip to Manly, must needs go again, and often, so by and bye, the rival companies amalgamated, a sixpenny return fare was established, and where, in 1893, the number of visitors was 376,777, the number in 1898 reached the grand total (exclusive of season ticket holders-a very numerous class, of course), 1,145,872-more than three times the number carried at the 1s 6d rate. Scores of new houses have been erected to meet growing demands, and from 3500 the population has increased to nearly 7000.

Under this new stimulus business, of course, went ahead by leaps and. bounds. Not a few shop-keepers found it necessary to rebuild, and extend their premises. Mr. J. W.Purves was one of these. He is the leading baker of Manly, and his refreshment-room at the Esplanade end of the Corso beats anything to be seen in Sydney for comfort, convenience, and general up-to-dateness. No wonder, for it cost him £2000 to build it. The floor is beautifully tiled, the ceiling is of the kind known as “Wunderlich,” and the furnishings and fittings are of modern type. What is more to the point, the confections, etc., are of the best quality, and as there are six waitresses in constant attendance, patrons are spared those trials of temper which invariably arise from “having to wait.” Mr. Purves’s establishment seats 80 people comfortably, and by utilising the balcony, he can accommodate 200. Not very long ago Mr. Purves had the satisfaction of seeing the Premier (Mr. Reid), and the Colonial Secretary (Mr. Brunker), sitting in his shop, enjoying a cup of tea “on their own.”

A little further along the Corso is the establishment of Mr. Charles J. Carroll, who, as chemist and druggist, has built up a large connection during the three years he has been in; business. This is the same Mr. Carroll whose “Instantaneous Headache Cure” has afforded relief to numbers of suffering humanity. Apart from his profession of chemist and druggist. Mr. Carroll is a skilled surgical and mechanical dentist, and residents can have their teeth attended to on terms as advantageous as can be obtained in the city.

The “Universal Providers” of Manly is a distinction enjoyed by Messrs. Butler Brothers, who, seven years ago, took over the business of Mr. Stephen Sullivan, and have since extended it so as to embrace all the needs of the town. A list of the things they sell would make tedious reading, but roughly, they may be summed up under the several heads of groceries, provisions, wines and spirits, produce, hardware, ironmongery, paints and oils, bedding, furniture, and building material. Tea blending is made a specialty of, and the Butler Brothers’ brands have many appreciative consumers.

Another well-appointed tea-room is that of Mrs. Frances Young, which is situated at the corner of the Corso and the Ocean or Steyne Parade-the best and most admirable site in all Manly. The building is quite new-it was only opened by Mrs. Young on Christmas Eve-and it is replete with modern conveniences. Here visitors may sit and sip their tea and look out upon the great ocean, and listen to the music of the waves, as they break upon the beach a few yards away. What further recommendation is necessary? Unless it be that the catering is excellent, and the attendance first-class.

In the matter of educational advantages Manly is ahead of most suburbs. The University College, conducted by Mr. John F. M’Manamey, B.A., Syd. (gold medallist in classics), with competent assistant masters, though only twelve months founded, has become one of the institutions of the district. It is both a boarding and a day school. The curriculum includes preparation for the examinations of the University and of the Public Service Board. Special instruction is given in shorthand and type-writing, and, of course, adequate provision is made for recreation, in the shape of sports clubs, with the additional advantage of a cadet corp for drill and discipline.

Dalley’s Castle “Marinella” (home by the sea) photographed c 1930

The completion of the sewerage system-the construction of which was begun fifteen months ago will add materially to the reputation of Manly as a summer and health resort. As is well known, Manly numbers amongst its residents some very distinguished and influential people. His Eminence Cardinal Moran has his home there, and within a stone’s throw of his palace; dominating the landscape, stands that magnificent sandstone pile of buildings known as St. Patrick’s Ecclesiastical College, the most conspicuous landmark of Port Jackson. Facing St. Patrick’s, on the heights opposite, rises the gaunt facade of the late W. B. Dalley’s “Castle,” another landmark and a striking monument to the vanity of human ambition. It was near by. on what used to be called Constitutional Hill, that was exhibited, forty-two years ago, the first camera obscura known in these colonies. Yet a third landmark remains to be mentioned-the kangaroo, which for forty years has, from the elevated pedestal on Kangaroo ‘Hill, beckoned a welcome to vessels making for the port. Many stories are in circulation as to the raison d’etre of this stony marsupial, but the “very oldest” resident assures us that it was erected by the owner of the estate, Mr. H. S. Smith, simply to attract .people up the hill, he supposed. No article dealing with Manly would be complete without mention of those other delightful retreats known to thousands of cyclists, to which it furnishes the key. These include Narrabeen, Rock Lily, Bay View, Newport, and Pittwater, with all of which there is regular communication by coach daily.

Source:

Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW : 1870 – 1919), Saturday 25 February 1899, page 30

Hope you enjoyed this step back into Manly’s history.

Best wishes,

Rowena

A Walk Down George Street, Tallawoladah (The Rocks), Sydney.

After catching the ferry from Cremorne Point and the Museum of Contemporary Art closed, I headed for George Street, Tallawoladah (The Rocks), which is a short walk from Circular Quay. By the way, Tallawoladah was the name the original Cadigal people gave to the area Europeans have called The Rocks and it’s original name now appears prominently on signage which is good to see. About time, you could say. It wasn’t that long ago there was hardly a sign of Aboriginal Australia in the city. This is very different to how the Maori people are honoured and acknowledged in New Zealand, by the way, and something which seriously needed to change.

Thankfully my photographs are in order so I have some capacity to retrace my footsteps along George Street. Otherwise I’d have no idea what order everything slotted into and I’d probably have you jumping all over the place to keep up with my poor directions.

Selfie on George Street, The Rocks

I didn’t get far, because just across the road from the Museum of Contemporary Art, my eager eye spotted the Guylian Belgian Chocolate Cafe across the road and I was in and I’ll never forget that indulgent slice of lusciously gorgeous chocolate mud cake. OMG!!!! it was superlatively good… silky smooth and so indulgent!! I sat outside and slowly imbibed it while sipping my cappuccino. I rarely drink coffee often these days so it gives you an idea just how special this moment was! There I was in Sydney, with a luscious slice of chocolate mud cake and a cappuccino after three years of serious deprivation. I might’ve been sitting down but inside I was swinging from the rafters. Yippee!! Life was superlatively good.

The Guylian Cafe is across the road from the famous Orient Hotel, which was originally built as a butcher shop in 1844. It’s been a famous pub for longer than I’ve existed. By this stage, it must’ve been around 6.00pm and it was literally buzzing with the after work crowd in full flight. Strangely perhaps, this was yet another moment I became acutely aware of the weirdness of our isolated lockdown world and my own enhanced isolation. I’ve barely been in a crowd for the last three years and there was a cacophony of voices across the road which sounded like threes full of Rainbow Lorikeets we get around here. To be very honest, it almost sounded like “blah, blah, blah!”

I kept walking.

Squidinky

Next stop was was Squidinky and much to my horror it was closed. OMG! To find something which mirrored my own personal quirkiness so precisely was like electricity to my heart and soul and for it to be closed…Oh woe is me! However, that said, I jumped on the computer when I got home and spent several hours perusing their website and there would be no doubt where I’d be heading the next morning…back to Squidinky along with the Museum of Contemporary Art.

As it turned out when I returned Max Mendez, the artist, was in. Oh be still my beating heart! My daughter would’ve been embarrassed if she’d seen me there because I’m always so effusive when I love something and I was literally salivating like a rabid dog. But as Kermit once said: “it’s not being green”, being different. Yet, at the same time, there’s such a refreshing beauty in it too which can take awhile to appreciate, especially in ourselves. After spewing out rapturous praise, Max said I lit up the room with my enthusiasm. Good to see someone appreciates me. BTW I found something very, very special at Squidinky…his Cockatutu range.

As a dance mum and well let’s just say someone who has done a few adult ballet classes even if I wasn’t star material, I absolutely loved it. Bought three plates and could’ve easily bought ten more and gave two to her ballet teachers as a thank you for Miss’s recent audition tape. I also recommend checking out Mark’s blog and seeing his lockdown project illustrating Sydney landmarks here.

By the way, I did think of getting a photo of Mark, and even of the two of us together, especially for the blog. He was so friendly that there’s no doubt he would’ve obliged but I was shy. Didn’t ask, which was very out of character, but perhaps I was too busy enjoyed the moment.

I kept walking.

You never know what you’re going to find.

Mr Yellow Lego Head

After all these years of covid, lockdowns and insanity, it was good to be back at The Rocks again. I used to go to The Rocks as a child with mum and my brother and we’d go to Pancakes at The Rocks, which had the thick American style pancakes with maple syrup and whipped butter instead of our usual lemon and sugar or jam. Geoff went to The Rocks for a his sister’s pre-wedding dinner at the famous Spaghetti Factory. His mother initially was rather unimpressed. Coming from regional Tasmania, as far as she knew, spaghetti came from a tin and was hardly something special. My cousin was married at the famous Garrison Church but I didn’t make it there. It was up a hill and with my dodgy breathing, I was sticking to the flat.

Clearly, it was good to be back. Now that we’ve reached the Overseas Passenger Terminal, we’re going to hit pause and I’ll be back soon.

Have you been to Tallawoladah (The Rocks) and do you have any stories to share?

I look forward to hearing from you!

Best wishes,

Rowena

Australian Winter Wanderlust.

Today, I unwittingly marked the Winter Solstice with a drive, which could at a serious stretch be described as a “trip to the country”.

I hadn’t ventured far, when I came across a stand of stunning Autumn trees (which I must admit I’ve stopped to photograph before many moons ago in that haze now simply referred to as “before covid”.) Of course, I immediately pulled over and instantly regretted not packing my SLR. However, I had my phone. Now, what seems to suffice for mere mortals, had to be good enough for me.

A crunchy carpet of Autumn leaves.

By the way, this little drive of mine was all in aid of Miss getting her eyelash extensions done. Well, at least that’s what propelled me off the lounge driving 20 minutes up the hill to Kariong. The whole procedure usually takes about an hour. While she’s there, I usually walk around the Mt Penang Parklands. However, I was only there two weeks ago, and today I was seemingly swept up in a gust of wanderlust and I decided to venture further afield to Somersby, where I might find a nursery or some Autumn trees. Whatever else I ended up doing on this expedition, I was mindful that I needed to go for a walk and get some exercise. My back has been a rusty gate of late and my step counter has been swearing at me. So I really needed to get those steps up and my heart rate moving!

Once again, I was reminded how easy it is to live in our little bubbles and forget what’s just around the corner, or even only slightly further afield. There I was driving along Wiseman’s Ferry Road when I spot a familiar row of Autumn trees resplendent in their crimson and golden splendour glowing in the muted sun. They were absolutely magnificent, especially for me. We live right near the beach and there aren’t that many deciduous trees around here. Our native Australian trees are evergreen, and as much as I often feel these trees are out of place here, I adore them.

Meanwhile, admiring and photographing these gorgeous beauties has taken me down yet another research rabbit warren…trying to identify the leaves. However, I guess I ought to be thankful. In the course of my quest, I stumbled across a post by another beleaguered tree hugger who was trying to identify trees with only their barren skeletons and the texture of their bark to go on. So, it seems I’m decidedly better off, and should be feeling grateful instead.

Well, I am grateful. Truly, I am.

I’m grateful that I had the time to drive out to the trees, park beside the road and stop. I’m grateful that someone had the foresight umpteen years ago to plant those trees, and for whoever owns them now to do whatever they’re doing to nurture and maintain them, while putting up with voyeurs like myself pulling up and disturbing their patch of soil under the sun. I don’t know whether they have to do a lot of raking. However, looking at the number of trees, the volume of leaves they’re losing is staggering which makes me grateful I get all the joys and none of the responsibilities.

The cows were an added bonus and helped authenticate the country experience.

So I guess this brings me back to waiting for Miss, and whether I’m cranky and resent the time I’m waiting around and could be getting on with so, so many things. Or, do I actually appreciate the breathing space and the opportunity to get out of my little neck of the woods and stretch my legs and my photographic-eye a little further afield? It is a choice, and I’ve even surprised myself. I don’t complain. I always find something mind-blowingly wonderful.

What are the seasons up to in your neck of the woods? What have you been exploring? I’d love to hear from you in the comments below.

Best wishes,

Rowena

PS I managed to clock up 2,197 steps. Not a personal best but the brutally honest stepcounter doesn’t mess around and told me : “You took 1,699 more steps yesterday than the day before”. Well, at least it’s an improvement!

Weekend Coffee Share – 19th June, 2022.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

How have you been? I missed last week. I was flat out and before I knew it, it was Monday afternoon. So, here I am on Sunday afternoon trying to get ahead of myself this week. By the way, I can offer you some home baked Chocolate & Pecan Cookies, which are pretty scrumptious along with a cup of tea, coffee or even something random if you like. We’ll look after you here. However, I should warn you that we have three dogs and they make things rather lively for unsuspecting visitors.

Before I go any further, I would like to invite you to check out a conference held in Sydney for Young People called Standing Tall. They had a day of speakers and the day was livestreamed and available online for three months. I watched in myself and really found myself changed at the end of the day and having faith that I can actually make my dreams happen. Wrote a post which includes links to other motivational videos posted by the speakers. I was stunned at the amount of really good quality talks available free online. While the program is geared towards young people, it’s suitable for all ages. It’s not often I say this, but I challenge you to check it out here via my post: Learning to Dream Again After Standing Tall.

It’s Winter here. However, the weather has been glorious lately albeit a little chilly at times. Last weekend, Geoff and I were finally able to visit my parents in Sydney after a 12 month break due to covid lockdowns and ongoing cautious isolation. My parents have a glorious, well-established cottage garden. The camellias are flowering and they have these massive camellia reticulatas whose flowers are as big as saucers and even stunning when they’ve fallen from the tree into the groundcover down below. https://www.camelliagrove.com.au/

The view across to Copacobana

We also went whale watching last weekend, which was more about water watching instead. We might have seen the odd flicker in the water, but that was it. However, as you’ve no doubt heard before, it’s more about the journey than the destination. I was proud of myself for getting up the hill and onto the headland, especially as the track was pretty rugged with plenty of rounded rocks just waiting to trip me up. Unfortunately, I haven’t been walking too much over the last couple of days and need to catch up. Apparently, I’ve only taken 110 steps today. That isn’t entirely true. I’ve been sorting things out at home and have physically exerted myself but didn’t have my phone on me.

Aboriginal art for the Five Lands Walk to be held on the 25th June https://www.5landswalk.com.au/

Lately, I’ve stepped up more with my writing and have entered two competitions. There was a 500 word piece for a Furious Fiction competition run by the Australian Writers’ Centre, and I also entered a 250 word competition out in Mudgee in Western NSW which had to be based on a photo and you have include the photo. Note that I said “include” and not “attach”. They wanted everything hard copy and there will be an exhibition. I only found out about the competition the night before so I had to work pretty hard turning all that around and getting it in the post in time, and am rather chuffed that I pulled it off. I now have a list of upcoming competitions and am putting myself out there. Of course, everyone wants to win, but entering in itself is a win of sorts and far better to throw your hat in the ring and lose, than not having a go.

Collapsing uer the weight of my new book haul with Zac the dog on my lap. I think he was sitting beside the books and you can see his black ear sticking up.

Well, we’ve been beavering away on the house, and it’s starting to pay off. We have way too much stuff, and we are trying to downsize but temptation keeps crossing my path. Yesterday, I just happened to find myself at another second-hand book sale. This time I didn’t count my haul, but it must be close to 50. That might sound insane, but when you consider I paid $25.00 for them, it makes a lot of sense. The only issue is how am I going to read them all? Anyway, I touched on all of this is my previous post for What’s On My Bookshelf? for June.

How has your week been? I hope it’s gone well.

Anyway, this has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer.

Best wishes,

Rowena

A Winter Walk.

It’s Winter here. While all too easy to complain about the cold, and sink into a melancholy barrenness, I challenged myself to look out for flowers, colour and inspiration when I went on my regular walk around the Mt Penang Parklands near Gosford, North of Sydney. While Winters here are generally fairly mild without any sign of snow and ice, it’s still a season of slumber, hibernation and low expectations.

Candlestick Banksia

Early on in my walk, I was delighted to stumble across the golden Candlestick Banksia. It felt like a proof of concept that there’s always something positive, you just need to seek it out and not only focus on doom and gloom…or what’s missing. You just need to keep your eyes open and be careful what you filter in and out.

That said, I must admit I was disappointed to see the state of the water lilies which were in the last throws of seasonal death. When I was there last, they were just past their peak, but I had such a wonderful time photographing them and I even filmed them swaying around in the wind. They were magnificent and almost seemed to come to life. However, while the lilies were no longer beautiful in the conventional sense, they were still quite photogenic with their striking wiry forms, even if they weren’t instantly recognisable in the photos. A bit of intrigue and abstraction is good.

Water Lilies

Anyway, I’ve been trying to get out for more walks and I do try to mix it up a bit. It’s also really good to be able to get outside again after months and months of rain. What with avoiding crowds and shops etc to avoid covid and not being able to exercise outdoors for such long stretches of time, I noticed an impact on my mood but even more so on my neurological functioning. I’ve been actively fighting back against that, but it hasn’t been easy and I’m finally starting to feel I’m turning the corner.

Anyway, please stay tuned as I have more walks to come. Meanwhile, have you been on any interesting walks lately? I’d love to hear from you and put a few links in the comments.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Reflections in the pond.

Driving to Pearl Beach, Australia.

The white chariot headed out for a relatively short drive over to neighbouring Pearl Beach with young Miss at the wheel again rapidly accruing her driving hours. In case you missed the big announcement, about ten days ago Miss got her Learner’s Permit and now has mostly me bailed up in the front seat while she accrues her mandatory 120 hours of supervised driving. She seems to love driving, and mostly finds it very relaxing, and it must be such a great feeling to be driving herself to all sorts of places we rarely ever seem to get to ordinarily. We are going to know our local area like the back of our hand by the end of next week at the rate we’re going.

Today, she drove us around to Pearl Beach in between dance classes, which only allowed me to squeeze in a quick walk, take a few photos and to also check out the Little Book Library by the beach, which has long been an absolute treasure trove.

Indeed, that reminds me that the Peal Beach Annual Book Sale will be coming up soon on the Easter long weekend. This is a time to leave the family at home and to ensure the car is empty. For booklovers like myself, this is TEMPTATION and by my very own definition of evil last last when I was referring to the pokies, EVIL. It appears that even something good for you can become evil in excess (and especially when your house is already bursting at the seams with books!!)

Meanwhile, I was also curious to see how the beach was looking after the recent floods. The last time I was at Pearlie about a week ago, a great river had opened up and was carving a path from a back estuary straight through the beach. Indeed, it looks like it has always been there. However, I don’t recall seeing the beach carved up like that before. Then again, I don’t recall it raining like this before either. It’s been so intense and seemed to out last Noah’s 40 days and 40 nights by a country mile.

There was still a trailing snake carved deeply through the sand where the flood waters had been, but the river had almost dried up.

What I did find was one of these little “houses” made out of driftwood on the beach. Although it wasn’t anything like approaching a proper house, and was little more than a handful of sticks thrown together, it spoke promise to me…hope, optimism, new beginnings.

Wedding at Pearl Beach today.

Then, I noticed a wedding taking place further down the beach. How exciting was that. Not only were the bride and groom celebrating their big day and promising to love each other through it all, they had a dry wedding and glorious sunshine. They must’ve been deliriously happy, amazed and grateful.

Stick Tepee

However, that wedding is but a bright spark in an uncertain world. Lately, I’ve really been wishing I could wave my magic wand over the Earth and just make everything better. End this dreadful invasion of the Ukraine. Magically restore homes, businesses and lives lost during our extreme flooding here in NSW and Queensland. Getting rid of covid is another aspiration. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be a miracle worker?!!

Such a loving dog! This is how many hours are spent, usually with my keyboard resting on his back.

Meanwhile, I’m back home and Zac is sleeping on my lap, and the troubles of the world seem very far away, and yet our son is coughing and our daughter is staying overnight at her friend’s 18th. Potential trouble is never far away, even if it doesn’t actually knock on your door. However, hope is also there as well, often to be found in the little things, especially at first, and so it can be so easy be missed.

How are you going in your neck of the woods? I hope you are doing well, and thank you for popping in.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Mutterings of A Reluctant Traveller.

Greetings Bloggers,

This is Rosie. You’ve never heard from me on the blog before, because I’m rather anti-social, and despite being the smartest dog in the pack, I don’t come when called, and that’s not the only string to my rather recalcitrant bow. However, I am a hard worker, which is more than I can say for these humans who just sit around tapping all day, although Dad does throw the occasional ball and then mutter something about getting back to work.

I’m the dog on the right refusing to sit, while Zac’s the world’s biggest crawler sitting down being such a good boy and Mum’s favourite.

Anyway, despite being what other members describe as “impossible to train”, I have become the favourite of the Little Miss. As I said, I’m not stupid and while that brother of mine, Zac, thinks he’s Kingpin just because he’s flopped over Mum’s lap whenever she’s awake, I figured out that the Miss was the one to aim for. Get into her good books. She’s the one who always seems to be heading out for long walks, and if she takes a dog, she always takes me and leaves the other two behind. Lady apparently sniffs and stops too much, and Zac just goes berserk. None of us like other dogs, but Zac is the worst. Zac is the worst at everything, even though his full name is Isaac Newton. Well, on second thoughts, he’s really good at sooking up to Mum.

I just had to include my favourite photo of my brother and I as new arrivals.

Well, that’s just what Mum calls the back story. I’m just filling you in a little bit about how things operate around here, although I’ve left out how Lady caught a rat last week. She never chases sticks or balls, but if anything real is about, she’s onto it. She never gives up.

Miss and Mum driving

I decided to call this story “Mutterings of a Reluctant Traveller”, because I still haven’t got my bark back after a harrowing trip in a speeding contraption. Indeed, it was far more terrifying than the rumbles in the sky (thunder) and the beast which starts up just behind the dog bed (the printer). When it comes to this strange, white contraption, I must admit I was completely hoodwinked by Mum and Miss. They’d taken the other dogs out the back as usual and got me on the lead, and there I was thinking I was going for a walk, when instead I was shut inside the white contraption and restrained. While I was stricken with terror and dribbling faster than a leaking tap, Miss was so excited talking about taking me to Terrigal for a walk. The walk bit I understood, but what was a Terrigal? What was going to become of me? Just add to that the fact that Miss has only been driving a week, and see how you’d feel.

That’s why I don’t take any responsibility for what happened next, even though the evidence proved rather conclusively that I’d polished off my brother’s breakfast as well as my own.

Well, indeed, that’s my roundabout way of saying I threw up in the car.

I am not pulling on thee lead!

I didn’t mean too. Honest. So, I don’t know whether I was meant to be sorry. Moreover, I don’t know how I could be called a bad dog when my stomach upended itself without any assistance on my part. Indeed, I actually felt rather hungry afterwards, and I kind of wanted it back. Anyway, no one called me a bad dog. All was forgiven, and I finally managed to go for my walk.

Surf Rescue craft at Terrigal Beach along with the seaweed.

Well, that’s the end of my story. I’m now back at home sweet home, and I’m relieved. Dad said that’s the last time I’m getting in the car. Here’s hoping!

There was a big tree trunk on the beach after all the rain we’ve had lately.

Love and pawprints,

Rosie xxoo

PS: A Note From Mum

Rosie, you weren’t entirely without sin, and conveniently left a few things out, especially barking at other dogs. Her golden halo well and truly fell, and has now become her collar.