And then what happened?

Yarn bombing in Warburton.

Also this is a thing that happened to me.

This morning Lucie, Bridie and I went for a swim, and my aching legs - feeling abused after yesterday’s manual labour - managed to drag me 1.3km, which warranted an excellent brunch. Fi joined us on the balcony at WellCo as the food arrived, and we sat enjoying the breeze and the food. I usually use the time swimming laps to play over old memories in my head, summon moments in far away cities and towns, but today for the last 100m I tried being present, appreciating the sky and the pool and the cockatoos and my excellent friends. It was wonderfully calming.

On the way home, Luce and I went to pick up a whippersnipper from someone’s friend so we can start work on the side of the house, and they had a turtle so I chilled with him for a while. It was great.

While gardening today I found this tiny snail in my drinking glass. He’d been flicked there while we were moving branches and things, I suppose. His body and shell were both totally translucent, which I’d never seen before in a snail.

Difficult day at work manifesting as psychotic cats.

Yesterday I took Mum’s bike out of the garage and circled the peninsula around its very edge. It was my first time on the new bike track they’ve installed along the river side on the west, and it’s an absolutely gorgeous ride.

Once I reached the bridge in the north, I turned off the track and cycled around underneath it. I’ve never been there before, and it kind of looked like the type of place you might get a knife in the ribs late at night. However in the grey light of oncoming evening, it was really quite lovely. Leaving the bike under some marsh bushes, I waded out on the silt to dip my feet in the river. The tide was low and I could get out almost halfway. I looked back down the river towards Stockton, with Newcastle looming behind it, and for a moment felt very far away from things.

The moment broke as a car pulled up under the pylons. I sprinted back across the sand and up the rocks to the bike, hoping the two men who’d emerged from the car were unpacking fishing rods and not, say, anything I shouldn’t be seeing. Racing back down the road into Stockton itself, I turned sharply across the peninsula and over towards the ocean, stopping on the verge across from the lot where Mum and Dad are building the new house. I leant the bike against the stairs down to the beach, kicked off my sandals, and hit the pale blue water up to my knees, washing off the river mud.

That evening, Mum, Dad and I watched Jeff Who Lives At Home and ate turkey and cranberry sandwiches, and they laughed at each other while making bowls of macadamia ice cream and strawberries. It’s pretty good to be back here.

16. The Suburbs (continued)


But I forgot to ask.

[The Suburbs Project, finally complete!] 

15. Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)


Someday I will do this. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just enough to have dreamt it.

[The Suburbs Project] 

Peter Beesley’s phenomenal work at the 18th Biennale on Cockatoo Island, Sydney

14. Sprawl (Flatland)


One of my favourite trees in the world (and my window in the background).

[The Suburbs Project] 

cratey:

Alright, this one’s still a work in progress. I’m going to do something interesting with the background I think. Haven’t decided yet.

I found this thing I did a couple of years ago and man, I really like it actually! Never ended up finishing it though. I wonder where the original went, it’s probably buried somewhere with half my stuff from pre-Germany….

11. Wasted Hours


The bus stop near the Altes Rathaus is peculiarly full of people who dislike having their photo taken while boarding a bus.

[The Suburbs Project] 

8. Half Light II (No Celebration)


When the first frost hit the town, I went walking in the woods above my house.

[The Suburbs Project] 

An Uncertain Interlude


I fell asleep very early last night, and slept badly, and woke up at various points in the night not knowing where I was. 

I’m mostly settled in here now, I think, but nothing stays that way for long. People come and go, and I spend my time flitting from one project to another and wondering if one will sustain me long enough to find my feet, so that I have a solid footing from which to take the next leap.

But if I let myself stop and consider things (instead of letting thoughts catch me off-guard at some strange hour of the morning), I remember that I know what I want and who I am, and I know how I’ll get there, and it’s just a matter of persistence. The trick is knowing how to make the getting there bit worthwhile and fun.

7. Half Light I


My beloved Studentendorf. 

[The Suburbs Project]