The truth about dogs and cats? Busted.
Jambo will do anything to chase a cat and yet this puss is different. It’s taken up residence just off Boreas Road. I found some kids a few weeks ago making a shelter for it out of a packing case, and other people are leaving out bowls of food.
Most cats bolt when they see Jambo but this one marched out, bold as brass, and rolled around for a play. Now it’s a regular feature of our morning walk. Weird.
The north arm of Styx Creek. Ha ha.
You know that feeling, when you think you know something then find out that—after all—you don’t?
Wabi-sabi had been explained to me as a Japanese aesthetic that valued the natural decay of things, and I’d always applied to John’s shed, which is quietly sinking back into the Earth, from whence it came. It gave me a warm feeling.
Then, foolishly, I looked up wabi-sabi on Wikipedia:
It is a concept derived from the Buddhist teaching of the three marks of existence (三法印 sanbōin), specifically impermanence (無常 mujō), the other two being suffering (苦 ku) and emptiness or absence of self-nature (空 kū).
Impermanence? Yeah! Suffering? Um … Emptiness and absence of self-nature?
Why do you spoil everything, Internet?
Ruth Cotton’s Hidden Hamilton blog continues to be a source of the wondrous and the arcane. Ruth has a knack of unearthing brilliant old pictures of the area’s past, and recently Ruth forwarded this beauty taken on Broadmeadow Road by the redoubtable Noel Reed. Says Ruth:
This shows a maintenance ganger by the name of Stoddart attending to the points where the Waratah tram line became a single track at Broadmeadow and Boreas Roads, Hamilton North. It was 10 June 1950, the last day of the tramways – they had 12 more hours of life. Noel Reed took the photo and wonders if there are any Stoddarts still in Newcastle? Are any of the shops recognisable?
I wonder if this photo was taken on the same day as the photo of the tram featured in a previous Friday Foto?
I’m always fascinated by the trains that rumble over the Styx Creek bridge. Sometimes the people look down at me looking up at them and I wonder what they’re thinking about me as I think about them. Who are they? Where are they going? Why? What are their stories?
In winter I tend to get down the creek later in the day and often find myself in the not-quite darkness of the city’s post-dusk period. The trains at this time are lit up like TV screens, each window its own little world.
Who are you? Where are you going? Do you see me?
It’s not often that you come across a rat fast asleep in the creek. Man, this little guy was out to it.
At least, I think he was asleep. Noooo, Jambo!