Here in the desert, heat is a way of life.
We are always aware of the temperature. Yesterday was a little cooler, it maxed out at about 41C.
Yet around midday our very dry lake looked to be full of water.
In fact it was full of sky. The biggest mirage I have ever seen on the lake.
The shimmer from the heat haze has blurred everything in the distance.
Sudden flashes of green and orange brighten the dusty landscape of this desert.
Sitting for a short while on branches or power lines these insect-eaters look for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The memory of the flash of emerald green that catches your attention as it perches is washed away as it spots its prey and swoops with the bright orange beneath its wings providing the colour.
Then, happy with the first part of its meal, it waits hopefully for another flying insect to catch its eye.
Sometimes you can catch them showing orange even when they are perched. When the sun is right and the wind ruffles their feathers. This last is a male because the streamers from its tail are longer and finer than those in the first three images.
The words were written a decade ago
The image was taken yesterday.
The deafness continues.
For which man can ever truly understand the thoughts of a woman?
Click on the image for a larger version
Perth does not suffer from a lot of fogs.
So, when yesterday’s rain turned into a night-time fog, I was drawn to attempting to capture the ghostly atmosphere.
I found that sodium vapour street lights are far too intensely yellow and even with attempts at photoshopping the colour balance the quiet mistiness was lost.
Even with major colour and saturation correction too much was lost. Perhaps the reality of modern city streets will stop them from becoming eerie. Or maybe a sodium filter would help.
Looking through a tree with only distant white mercury vapour lights showing seems to catch some of the atmosphere.
Oh well, I hope I can remember these lessons the next time Perth is foggy and quiet.
While Perth is generally too warm for deciduous trees to fully colour-up during autumn, Bunbury is 200Km further south.
This seems to give that little bit of extra encouragement for these trees to show off.
Spencer St Bunbury, late day, early May (Click on image for Photobucket enlargement)
Sometimes it is a hard life at Coral Bay. This is why I do not recommend it for people like the aged and decrepit Daddy P. It could lead to severe heart palpitations and nasty head wounds inflicted by Lo, she IS a Terrible Goddess.
Even taking a walk along the beach is fraught with danger. To be suddenly confronted, as one views the world through a camera viewfinder, with unexpected sights like this is disconcerting.
Even on deserted beaches these distractions from the waves and avian life are inescapable.
Even after they have walked past there is a possibility of them accidentally getting in the way of the camera.
There are even times when non-vertical distractions appear. These are the most dangerous times of all!
Of course, eventually, the birds will all rise up and run the careless photographer off the beach.
Then there are the times when it is far better to remove the eye from the viewfinder and actually look at where you are putting your feet.
This is a young gwarda, an extremely poisonous snake which was hiding beneath a rock I walked on! It wasn’t happy.
It is always best to keep your eyes open when at Coral Bay. Every paradise has its serpents.
Here in Coral Bay there is much to see and a few little things which are odd.
While paddling my canoe on Saturday I spotted a table at the bottom of some remote sand dunes.
Someone had forgotten it.
On Sunday they forgot it again!
Very, very odd!
Originally just a road bridge, servicing a freeway, the Mt Henry Bridge was widened to allow the addition of rail tracks for the new Perth to Mandurah rail line.
It would have been nice if they had standardised the support pylons. This is an ugly, clumsy result.
The original Neath is here
Twisted is a hard one. My first impulse was to photograph my sense of humour..
Then I realised my clothesline was twisted
Then I remembered something I saw during my time in the Desert with indigenous people.
We are so used to having pockets or purses or bags in our civilization, it sometimes escapes our notice that other peoples had to find solutions to the problems of carrying stuff.
In a landscape where the heat is too great to wear skins as clothing and the only natural object which can be used for carrying are wooden bowls which the women can carry on their heads, these belts, worn around the waist, are a big help to the men who have to carry the small birds and animals back to camp while keeping their hands free for further hunting.
They are made from twisted human hair. The colour comes from the dust of the desert.
When I read Jabberwocky I always have this urge to visualise a Mome Rath as some giant mothish creature.
When I saw this on my ceiling last night I thought there might be some hidden beauty within its wings.
Instead I found this warty creature with no colour and no redeeming features.
So totally Gothy Emo.
I spent the rest of the night lying awake in dread, waiting to be outgrabed!
Downstream along the Swan River to Windan Bridge, from my balcony, on a smoky, still morning.
Click for a larger image.
One of the few large wooden bridges left on a major thoroughfare in metropolitan Perth.
At the confluence of the Canning and Swan rivers.
With a water main down the middle.
The fish were jumping the other day.
There was a weather change coming and the insects were flying across the river.
Small fish were having a feast, leaping out of the water, snatching snacks.
I tried to catch a fish out of water but, after 300 shots (thank goodness for digital cameras) this was the nearest I got.
Just after splashdown. There he is, on the right, swimming away.
So that why this is odd – A photo of a jumping fish – without the fish!
After a weekend of rain and misery-making, soul-destroying grey skies, here is something that cheers ME up.