Don’t lose your head, Fred

The couple of recent rain events have brought gentle flows rather than torrents into the creek. After the water’s subsided, what’s left is a series of fossilised patterns of the water’s path made up of natural debris.

They’re the kinds of things that inspire Andy Goldsworthy. I love his work, though I do like the crude irregularity of these natural sculptures, speckled as they are with plastic lids, torn nylon and busted bottles.

The bits of rubbish that don’t form into neat packages end up in the loving embrace of the litter boom by the TAFE. Every few months this stuff is scooped up by guys in waders with big nets but that really is just the tip of the iceberg; so much else simply washes out to sea.

As an aside, and in regards to absolutely nothing, I noticed the other day that someone has souvenired Fred’s head. I know that people get desperate for original gift ideas at this time of year, but Freddy’s head? I’d rather have socks and hankies.

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