The white cedars are shedding their leaves. I love the touches of gold in the garden.
Some limes a friend at work gave me.
Mixed emotions. The mist on the river in the mornings is beautiful - and the pelicans are back. All the work on Wharf Street is about new houseboat moorings which I guess is part and parcel of a tourist river town. But a workman took it into his head to cut out an old huge rivergum stump - a great loss of a natural play place for so many children. And the loss of a symbol of regeneration that has fascinated many - the stump doggedly sent out new growth - it was often damaged intentionally and intentionally - but new growth always appeared.
Your misty, moisty winter morning fitted perfectly with the glorious images left in my mind of yesterday's drive home from the south coast via Brown Mountain. After Nimitabel the whole western horizon was dominated by the Australian Alps carpeted in deep snow. Then north of Cooma the clouds were still hanging very low, but thinning in places and every bare tree, blade of grass, other plant and fence post was glistening with frozen droplets, a dragon's hoard of treasures - and it was nearly midday! The road and a brightly coloured van beckons to the gypsy in me as I sit snug, sipping tea in the warmth of the study.
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