Creating the Ice Dragon Sculpture.

Tan the man, Mr Cool.

The Ice Dragon.

Early stages.

 A slim Asian man looking after a photography exhibition at Robina library complex asked me which photograph I thought was the best. I chose a clear crisp picture of a white cockatoo in flight. He said “Thank you my name is Tan.” I introduced myself and we discussed photography. I then realized Tan had taken that photo. He shared his lunch of berries and vegetarian treats, a delightful change to my usual lunch.

Chain saw rips into the ice.

That is how we became friends. Tan was very generous giving not only material things he shared his wisdom with me.

Taking shape hours of artistic action.

I think Tan had suffered a lot of racial prejudice, probably because of his talent and good ethics. Also Tan would not bend to please bigots or fools.
Visiting the Buddha’s Birthday celebrations at Southbank, Brisbane, I was surprised to find Tan carving a large dragon out of ice using power tools. Just another one of Tan’s many talents.

Detail.

The picture of me and the Ice Dragon hangs in my room reminding me of many things. I learned from Tan and the Ice Dragon.
Our paths meet up only occasionally. Men rarely keep in contact but no matter how long it is when they meet again it is like yesterday.

Detail now the tail.

Voyaging on the vast ocean of life ships may sail together in a fleet for a time then drift apart.  Reciprocity and commitment is needed for people to stay together for any length of time. If we are fortunate sailing in the same direction we find good company.
If the company is really good  we change course. So if you are fortunate enough to find a really compatible companion appreciate and change your way to suit. The scenic route may be longer but more enjoyable.

Tan was fully in the now.

 The photo of the Ice Sculpture Dragon reminds me.

Out of the ice the dragon appears

Born in fire and made of clay.

I thought myself very clever.

To make a dragon that would last forever.

Your ice dragon will not last

But you are wise as well as clever,

Giving is how you get your pleasure.

Better and bigger than the pottery dragon I did.

 We are aware an ice sculpture will melt and appreciate its beauty without clinging.

Tan smiles at his achievement.

 It is not so obvious that all things change regardless of what they are made of.

The ice dragon made me more aware as it melted, that the joy of doing anything is to be absorbed in the delight of doing.

I no longer cling to my pottery dragon it has shattered. Not a smooth expected transition like the beautiful ice dragon as it melting.

I asked for a pose.

We cling to a fragile memory that time will inevitably consume.

Reluctantly we must let our past slip into the abyss of time. Time is the ultimate winner.

 The ice dragon teaches pleasure is doing,

 joy is giving and that sorrow of cling.

This is my reminder of impermanence that motivates me.

 

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On Top of the World.

A view of Sydney Harbour, CBD, bridge and all.

On top of the world.

The Hawkesbury area North of Sydney.

We departed the house we were minding in Canberra. Our flight plans did not coincide with our hosts. We left a day before they got back, it would have been nice to welcome them home but they would probably be tired and Peter was happy to mind Millie the dog and would drive us to the airport and pick up his daughter and family next day.

Wonder Woman at Work.

We were grateful for this and the enjoyable stay.

Flowering plants multiply flowers die.

Pauline and I wanted to make it a warm welcome for their arrival home. Pauline Added the feminine touch to our tidy up. I know they will be happy just to be home with familiar things.

A statue at Canberra Air Port.

Our trip home went well only minor flight delays. That allowed me to take some photos at the airport, of sculptures, people and windows. I have plenty of photos for the Lingering Look at Windows, blog.

Best to be early.

If I get organised, Pauline can tell you I just go with the flow. I am not saying I let Pauline do it all. What I am trying to say is I fit in with the inevitable changing my plans to suit prevailing conditions.

Tasteful wall decorations.

 This post is about the beauty of things that are a source of joy like flying home. Flying is always exciting providing we do not let it become stressful. Impatient to get there is a spoiler of any journey. If you have a delay there are lots of things to do.

Beautiful people to talk to.

You could walk and look at the unfamiliar surroundings. Walking is a good idea as you are going to be sitting while in flight. Observe the diverse range of people, note their dress, their moods and just watch all the activity.

Happy travellers.

 We love our home with its beautiful garden. There are no gardens liked it in our area. High fences and walls are the fashion and every inch packed with large expensive housing. If there is any garden at all it is low maintenance manicured and sterile. Nature is not welcome with chlorine in the pool instead of fish and water lilies.

Stop over at Sydney.

If there is a fish pond it is not balanced naturally air pumps keep it oxygenated. Everything has to be pumped up artificially. Pauline and I have our beautiful oasis we have the best of both worlds at Burleigh.

Pauline in our back garden.

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Blues.

On the bridge a man emerges, we says good morning as we pass.

The Blues

Fitness out of the fog.

I woke up with the blues the Robert Johnson blues. No sun-beams flooding through my window, it was cool and foggy out there. I knew exactly what to do, to sing is the thing. I popped out of bed like a Champaign cork with the bubbles of enthusiasm pushed me to Pauline’s door. “Come on Sweet Heart, out of the cot we got things to do, me and you!” She needed no prompting, she knew what great opportunities a foggy morning brought.

Professionals knows fogs are photo opportunities.

I could not keep her from the Burl Ives ‘Foggy foggy dew’.  On with our cloths and up up and away like Wonder Woman and Clark Kent, I am being mild-mannered and modest. Don’t get carried away, we took off in the car; I want this to be believable. We parked at the lake and took flight on foot. Two fast guns shooting all in sight, here are some of my trophies. To give you an idea of what Lake Burley Griffin, Canberra is like at seven, on a foggy morn. Pauline will show more in her blog and put more information.

Teaching baby good habits.

Invigorating.

Well balanced dogs.

Recognise anyone.

Kayak or palindrome kid.

Hero of the day.

Today is first day of Canberra’s Floriade day.

We return the sun now shines,

Christen and Spencer are visiting us to see this spectacular flower display.  After breakfast it was back to the lake but by now parking was limited but Pauline had it all planed to we parked at the gallery and walked back across the bridge. I just go with the flow, wu wei, Pauline is the planer. I go with the flow and trust my luck, I got heaps of that.

At the gate our meeting place.

Meet back here at the gate at 12.30 if we get separated Pauline suggested. I was back at the trysting place early and people watched for ten minutes and they were ten minutes early.

A sample of the flowers.

There is much more than this.

I suggested back in a taxi as we had already done a fair hike. Pauline had also taken the dog for its walk while I did the washing up and set the fire, ready for a match tonight. No taxis allowed into Floriade area well it was not in Pauline’s plan anyway. What happened to my luck well we needed the exercise. Here are some photos to give you glimpse of Floriade.

Entrance to the museum.

We went to the National Museum of Australia, as they have a choice menu and it is a fantastic monument  of architectural splendour. We savoured delectable dishes while gazing out the windows on to the lake, the fountain was now pumping and sail boats and ferry were out there enhancing the scenery.

Feasting the eyes while savouring lunch, this is true nourishment.

Then explored this fair dinkum  Aussie museum .

Do not miss the garden of dreams.

The charming guide is needed to describe.

With a couple of rest stops at the Revolving theatre with Aussie history and a lay-back relax in the there showing Aussie life style. My camera was clicking like a cricket hyped up on coke.  Get an eye full of this sample.

Next stop the Nishi building.

We drive to New Acton area for Cappuccino.

The clock is wrong but we are having a goodtime.

Looking at the aria.

Every move you make, I’ll be watching you.

Up the steps for a cappuccino.

 We enjoyed the day, especially as we were with our friends. Back home they watched TV and chatted while I caught up with my blog friends, but get carried away with a You Tube video in Zeebra’s post. That got me tuned in on the Cajun swamp music and the Blues. All the old guys that I have enjoyed throughout the years, from our wild days, to now when the music still lifts us up and gets us revving.

 I was there with those blokes jamming, winding up with J. J. Cale till after midnight.  It was a real blues day, a blue skies day. With good friends who have travelled the world as show people, both musicians. Spencer actually jammed with Jagger when he was only a pebble not a big rolling stone.

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Wide Brown Land.

ACT National Arboretum Canberra a Tribute to Nature.

Arboretum panorama 1.

These views show the immensity of this project it is far from established. Even at this stage it is well worth visiting. The work is still in progress for people and Mother Nature to complete the work. Nature is unmatched, by man’s hand and she cannot be rushed. I would like to see the forests when they are established in ten; twenty or thirty years (I will have to be lucky) The people who have dreamed up this whole project are  impressive artists in many fields. But like the poem by Joyce Kilmer.

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

There are two exceptional sculptures and spectacular architecture.

 The sculpture is a tribute to Dorothea Mackellar and her poem, My Country. The start of this poem is appropriate to Pauline and I. To get a more comprehensive idea of the area and history hit this link to Pauline’s post. I am more interested in the sculpture and the tribute to Mother Nature.

Panorama made up of 3 photos by Pauline.

The wide brown land sculpture that can be seen from many vantage points, the words are in Dorothea Mackellar’s hand writing. To me it is not a small achievement, it was a combined effort of skilled artist and craftsmen.  Imagine the marking out of the steel plates, the forming and welding the grinding and smoothing and the shifting into place.

 The Village Centre houses the Bonsai and Penjing collection and many other things of interest.

We walked into an established forest area and smelled barbeque cooking.  There was a man cooking at a powered barbeque and a lady. Click went my camera I like photos of people enjoying life.

I spoke to the man “I just took a photo of you and your lady she looked so at peace.”

“My wife is praying.”

“That’s nice I follow the Buddha’s path and meditate.”

“It is all good.” He replied.

“Enjoy. “were my parting word.

I thought what a nice couple appreciating nature in the peaceful forest, nature’s cathedral or mosque. As he said all is good. The wide brown land is a multinational land where people are generally accepting and respectful of each other’s customs and this enhances life with the different foods and a variety of dress.

James Cook Memorial Fountain

Dorothea Mackellar was in London when she wrote the poem My Country. I often recalled the poem when I was working in New Zealand. New Zealand is a wonderful country but there is no place like home.

 

Appreciation.

The other outstanding sculpture.

Wide brown land,

close up

My Country.

The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes.

Of ordered woods and gardens

Is running in your veins,
Strong love of grey-blue distance
Brown streams and soft dim skies
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror –
The wide brown land for me!

A stark white ring-barked forest
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon.
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When sick at heart, around us,
We see the cattle die –
But then the grey clouds gather,

The Kiss.

And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady, soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the Rainbow Gold,
For flood and fire and famine,
She pays us back threefold –
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land –
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand –
Though earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

Dorothea Mackellar

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