Toogoom, QLD.

The earth’s shadow is rent on a pink dusk sky above the Beelbi Creek at low tide.

Toogoom, QLD.

Toogoom, where I spent a lot of my last week and a bit, is still a sleepy little coastal hamlet where dropping a line is the highest priority.  That said, the every encroaching ‘seachange’ is but a housing estate away.

And with that, I have returned!  With a bit of luck, it will be for a while too.

The above image is of (part of) the beautiful Hotel Shamrock in Bendigo.  The architecture of this building is exquisite, right down the the coloured tiles beneath the window sills.  It’s great to see a country town maintaining a pub like this and not to see it adorned with garish large modern billboard advertising for mid strength beers.

Another taste of the Bendigo streetscape.
Alas I’m going to be sans intertrons for the next week and a bit as I take a bit of a break.  I’ll be back to continue the post a day quest from the first week in May.

A recent trip to Bendigo afforded the opportunity to wander the streets, albeit briefly, and marvel at some of the majestic gold rush period architecture.  The town hall, hidden back from the main street, is indeed one.

Bluff Knoll is a fascinating place and I recently had the chance of visiting at least the base of it.  While the walk up was inviting, it was amazingly cold and the thought of six kilometres taking four hours meant that I wasn’t quite that keen.

But I will be back!

As the title says really.  Geese are so experssive.

This fine specimen was more than happy to pose for me in the yard of Ford House in Bridgetown.  Even without getting snappy!

time, all the long red lines
that take control
of all the smokelike streams
that flow into your dreams
that big blue open sea
that can’t be crossed
that can’t be climbed
just born between
oh the two white lines
distant gods and faded signs
of all those blinking lites
you had to pick the one tonite

holes, dug by little moles
angry jealous spies
got telephones for eyes
come to you as friends
all those endless ends
that can’t be tied
oh they make me laugh
and always make me cry
’til they drop like flies
and sink like polished stones
of all the stones I throw

how does that old song go

how does that old song go

bands, those funny little plans
that never work quite right