And soon, rust streaked panels will be gone; gathered on a truck, & toddlers will squeal & yawp as they play #izzopark twitter.com/pryorcommitmen…

— Roger Pryor (@pryorcommitment) October 31, 2012

Listen: there is no creak in the creek at the end of my street. It ebbs and flows; creakless, squeakless, serene. twitter.com/pryorcommitmen…

— Roger Pryor (@pryorcommitment) October 31, 2012

Pelican in foreground: with huge bill gaping in anticipation of a good feed; turns back on carrier equally hungry. twitter.com/pryorcommitmen…

— Roger Pryor (@pryorcommitment) October 21, 2012

Sultry Sydney spring evening.

The urban drama of the Broadway lights

Ebbs and flows at Harris Street.

Green.

Slish, slash, roar and swerve

The scooters and bikes spring from the maw of the pack where,

Behind them:

All manner of vehicular animals rush

In series

Eyes alight; glaring

All intent on going somewhere:

They want to go.

I’m sure I once read that it’s

The busiest corner in town.

the house is finished, the trip’s over and the knees have been done;

was to have Joe over for a jam.

That won’t happen now.

I met Joe, like many of us did:

virtually; then: In Real Life.

Coffee and Lunaticks and bright idea bubbles clinging to a web at dawn

we’re drawn, to whom we respect, and who we

Know

Care about us, and them; and those.

Joe was one of these people.

It may be Twitter

It may be twee to some

But for one reason and another,

There’s a big mob of tweeps in Newy this week

Reflecting on what we knew of Joe

And how we knew

Gossamer webs, connecting

those bits of us that assist the creation of

synergies of humanity:

not the wedging of it apart.

Vale Joe Grgas

The grandstand at the racecourse stares out across the track and flat while, behind it, sweep the gums which reach down deep into the life giving force which is the Murrumbidgee.

It is so nice to see it full and alive.

The glow of the grandstand gable fades as the sun sinks. Galahs fly their sunset sorties; setting off to remind others that this is their place.

Night will descend swiftly soon.  I hope that some of the ideas traded today add value to tomorrow’s dawn.

Some ‘phonography’ images later, and some music

Music: Free mp3, Polaroid Flame – We live your life

We’re only trying to find
And we only wanna feel alive
We’re only trying to find
And we only wanna feel alive

You gotta know that some things will find you
Can you see the right and the wrong
Breath some life into the numbers
We live your life

We’re only trying to find
And we only wanna feel alive
We’re only trying to find
And we only wanna feel alive

Do you dream with your eyes wide open
Did you purpose with fighting for
Led the romance from the loved ones
We live your life

We’re only trying to find
And we only wanna feel alive
We’re only trying to find
And we only wanna feel alive

Cows graze as the light hastens across a flowering carpet of gold.

An old tree stands against the greying sky waiting for the vagaries of fate

We came to this place where we were so different and where the things surrounding us had spent millennia in their achievement. So often, the most enduring reminders are those which seek to connect human existence with a spiritual reason for it occurring at all.

Back in the 1820s, Tahlee and  Carrington were established as a base for the Australian Agricultural (AA) company. While little remains on the surface, it’s easy to imagine that with a few quiet moments there may be sounds and memories ready to spring from the sun blanched bones of older buildings and the glow of the hewn stone as the sun retreats again.

Church at Carrington, Port Stephens