Well, it’s not exactly gold, frankincense and myrrh, but the creek did offer some gifts for Christmas.
Went for a walk on Boxing Day. It was sticky humid. The wind that had brought the trash up the creek on Christmas Day had died down but the concrete was littered with manmade grunge. Among the trash were other more interesting natural spectacles; certainly more dead eels than I’ve seen at the same time for ages.
This rat was decorated with the most beautifully bejewelled flies: rich emeralds and sapphire blues.
Another bauble turned up to remind me that the festive season isn’t over yet. It sat nestled next to an empty Tooheys New bottle, the plastic goose from a few days ago, a used syringe and a boogie board. If I was that way talented and inclined I’d make a carol about that. On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me …
The thunderheads rolled in at about seven o’clock in the evening and sent the whole lot washing down and away. I’m kind of relieved as the creek was looking really (I mean really) sad, but my relief’s tempered with the knowledge that all that hideous crap is now bobbing around in someone else’s stretch of the river.