Sunday, June 24, 2018


Fishing at the river-mouth, on a lazy wintry (huh! this is Queensland) afternoon. Despite the foreshore being on-lead-only, we brought our noble hound. I might be able to re-attach my arm sometime soon as there were soooo many things he needed to check out - pronto!

However, it was all worth it, as I'm convinced it was his presence that lured the dolphin (and, I believe, dolphin pup) into swimming close to check us out.

Obviously, we caught nothing, except photos, but I do like seeing the cast net being thrown and the Glasshouse Mountains looked stunning.

The Land-Dolphin.

Don't fall in little one! She skitters around at a run like a crazy drunk (buzz not jumping in after her, there's serious amounts of slime in there) but so far hasn't fallen in.

That triangle is one of the dolphins! - looking out to the opening to Pumicestone Passage and beyond to Bribe Island.

Self-Portrait. Enjoying the sun. And yes, heels are a bad choice when you're being yanked by a headstrong dog, but all my sensible shoes have gone on adventures and are in need of de-mudding, drying out or re-stitching!

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Variations of Ephemeral

Variations on a theme - slightly closer to the Glasshouse Mountains, this is just before the inhabited part of Bribie Island becomes National Park.

We left home in a flurry of bait and jackets and arrived just as the sun was setting. This is my favourite beach along Pumicestone Passage - a little more remote, a little closer to the Glasshouse Mountains, backed only by trees and then a line of houses, rather than the walkways, shops, playgrounds that are common closer to the bridge over to the mainland. While I am the first to respect provisioning of loos and playgrounds, it's nice to be in a place less bound. We cross four bridges to reach it, a fact that brings me more joy than you would think.

My Diva does not approve. Without other children or a playground, she declines to leave the comfort of the car. "Don't you want to get in touch with your inner mer-girl? Commune with your nature-spirit? Experience the wild and wonder?"
"No, mother. I am staying here."

She's over fishing. I suspect she'll take it up again later, but the sudden change to a fishing family has been too much for her. I, myself, am finding the constant odour of bait in the car, getting my hair tangled in hooks from rods crammed in the car, a bit trying. But getting the kids easily to the beach. Begging to be outdoors. Completely worth it. And the little girls are still young enough to find delight in sand and water and the birds that pass by.

"Look, mama, bait!" In six months my Giggle-Bear has developed into a fishing-girl. That isn't a ribbon she's holding - it's a long, red, worm, about to be hooked.

Mostly, I don't get the kids to pose. I let them do their thing and take photos - but every so often I do say 'Could you dance for me' - or 'leap' - 'just there, no at that spot there.'

The play of shadow and light, the sheen of the water and the smudging of the clouds doubled over in silken reflection is a delight. I wade into the water and a sting ray raises itself from the sand and glides off. Later, I wade in again, deeper, and the same stingray fluffs up the sand around itself, then, in a huff, glides away into the deep.

Dark comes, my Wild-Boy doesn't want to leave. "We've only just arrived! This is just the start of my fishing trip!'
"School tomorrow."
The stars are brilliant as we make our way up the treed slope to the car, and head back over the bridge towards home.

Saturday, June 2, 2018


Sunset beside the sea is, almost by definition, a beautiful time. Aspects of air, water and fire combat in reflections of the setting sun across the sea and time hangs in cusp between day and night.

And then there are special days when the sunset is jaw droopingly spectacular and you don't want to look away as the sun and sea dance through their goodbye. Except of course kids are trying to drown themselves/each other, hook themselves on fishing rods and break their arms on flying foxes, handily situated close to shore.

We're seeing a lot of amazing sunsets-by-sea recently with my Wild-Boy's fishing fixation and I'm deeply grateful for the sunsets and all the wildlife that we see - rays and moray eels, dolphins and turtles have all made an appearance. As we head seawards as soon as my Beloved gets home from work and return as the kids are falling asleep a lot of stuff gets left undone and a lot of less than optimal stuff gets eaten, but I figure swings and roundabouts - we're building memories.

My magic-girl. Sea-fairy-Princess-Mermaid-Wizard.  I, of course am the ogre or the baby-eating giant in her complicated stories we need to act out.

 While her brother fishes she unpacks her treasures.

 Primed for attack.

I am always astonished anew at how beautiful Pumicestone Passage is in a slightly different light from a slightly different vantage. On that still eve, with that sheet of pink sheened silvered silk, it took a fairytale aspect.

Dance there upon the Shore... yes I've the type of mind that goes immediately to Yeats.

 And of course you need to show your unicorn the sunset.

When I've a bit more time and a few more photo shop skills I'll work at how to remove things like accidental boats sprouting from my baby's head. However, for now, I couldn't resist including this one for my Wonder-Girl's grin.

 My Wild-Boy fishing.
My Beloved. Also. Fishing, with the lights of the Bribie Island Bridge just coming out.