Sunday Selections #164

Sunday Selections was originally brought to us by Kim, of Frogpondsrock, as an ongoing meme where participants could post previously unused photos languishing in their files. 

The meme is now continued by River at Drifting through life.  The rules are so simple as to be almost non-existent.  Post some photos under the title Sunday Selections and link back to River.

Like River I usually run with a theme. Last Friday we went to the Parliamentary Rose Gardens, so I could take some photos.  And, needless to say I took a LOT.  So I will devote a post to them later this week.

On our way home, we detoured down to the lake to smile at kangaroos.  And smile I did.  It was a hottish day and the kangaroos were doing what they do best, relaxing.  As always clicking on the photos will embiggen them.

And just as we were leaving these ducks trotted by, begging to have their photos taken too.  So I obliged.

Come Wander with me

Last week, as I said in my last post, the skinny one and I were up long before sparrow fart and went to our balloon festival.

When we arrived it was still dark.  This is a balloon spread across the lawns in front of Old Parliament House waiting to be inflated.

And then the magic began.

And then dawn broke - and what a dawn.

And more and more balloons were inflated and took to the skies.

When the balloons were airborne we wandered back to the car - stopping to admire the roses in the gardens of Old Parliament House - and some day I will take you to the Senate Rose Garden (parliamentary manure is obviously VERY good for roses).

And then we headed off home.  Along the lakeside.  And had to stop for more photos.

The Peg-legged Pirate Parrot had just come to land.

Observed by us - and this resident - who was totally disinterested.

Wasn't it a lovely start to the day?

Sunday Selections #163

Sunday Selections was originally brought to us by Kim, of Frogpondsrock, as an ongoing meme where participants could post previously unused photos languishing in their files. 

The meme is now continued by River at Drifting through life.  The rules are so simple as to be almost non-existent.  Post some photos under the title Sunday Selections and link back to River.

Like River I usually run with a theme.  And this week it is one which has made my heart sing.  I am a hot-air balloon tragic and each March we have a balloon festival.  Lots of balloons and ordinarily a 'feature' balloon or two.  This year they were SkyWhale (which some of you will remember) and a pirate parrot.

His high and skinniness had a very bad night on Wednesday, and gave up and got up around 4am.  As a rule he is decidedly a 'spring out of bed at the crack of noon' person, so I took advantage of this, and we headed off a little before six to see the balloons inflated and take off. 

I took around 934, 711 photos (conservatively speaking).  A few of them follow.  Clicking on the photos will, of course, embiggen them.

Despite rather a lot of cloud it was a magical morning.  The sunrise was lovely too.

I have cajoled my youngest brother, and we are heading out shortly in the hopes of seeing it all over again (though it is quite windy, so I am a bit worried that it won't happen today).  More photos will follow later this week.

Update:  Sadly the wind continued, and we didn't get to see them today.  How lucky that the smaller portion had a bad night earlier this week.  And yes, I do feel a bit guilty for saying that.  A bit.

Unfulfilled Dreams

I have recently finished yet another biography 'Colette's France her lives, her loves' by Jane Gilmour.  As I expected, I loved it.  She lived a rich and full (even greedy) life, and didn't let anything get in her way.  She was a writer, an actor, a mime, a gardener, a lover of cats, a reader...

Some of her life was scandalous, think multiple and sometimes lesbian affairs, or appearing half-naked on stage.  Some of it was difficult.  I have, and cherish many of her books and knew some, but not all of her background.

I disliked her treatment of her mother, and even more her treatment of her daughter.  The only affair she had which caused me discomfort was the three year affair she had with her step-son.  While still married to his father.

The book was comprehensive, very readable and the photographs of places she lived in and loved filled me with envy.

Just the same, it is not the photographs or Colette's life which will stay with me.

A tiny snippet about her father haunts me.

'He also aspired to be a writer.  On the top shelf of the library was a row of books, inscribed with his handwritten titles.  But inside each one there was not a word, apart from a dedication to his wife.'

Unlike Edith Piaf, I do have regrets.  And most of them relate to things I haven't done rather than those I have.  To spend an entire life yearning to not only write but to have a thing of beauty to dedicate to his lover and yet to achieve nothing struck me as incredibly sad.  Did he have the talent?  His daughter certainly did, but he died long before her writing was recognised and applauded.  Would that have helped - or made it worse for him?
A sadness.