Today is the 6th March and we are being hit with a real wintery blast. There is a reasonable dusting of snow atop the lump today. It was clear this morning then around 10am it 'felt' like snow on the shore and the lump was engulfed by cloud. When it was visible again the dusting was lightish around midday and at 4.30pm when I picked MissA up from school (which is in the shadows of the lump) there was evidence of some very heavy snow fall and it was quite low too.
Pretty excited, but it is VERY cold!
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Friday, April 24, 2015
The River
Water is such an essential part of life, of living. It makes up so much of who you are and it is only near water that I feel grounded and whole. We are lucky to live where we do. We are lucky to have the water so close. We are luckier to live without a fear of the water taking our home or our lives.
The colours of the water are varied. From deep teal to azure, from a dark and stormy grey to an almost black blue. The surface of the water can change too. Some days it is like a mirror. Like a frozen pond. The evening lights are perfectly reflected in its surface. Other days it is a busy port with movement trails left behind where the movement in the tide leaves a trace of its tracks. Other days it can be rough with white caps breaking the surface.
The surface of the water also tell me the weather that is coming. White caps mean wind. Calm can mean rain. It doesn't matter the surface. It just matters that it is there.
The river is a busy place. No commuter ferries. Pleasure craft, yachts and a lot of kayaks play on the surface near the banks. There are a few tourist boats which traverse the waters but not many and not often. The centre channel is left free for the cruise ships and Antarctic boats. Even war ships.
Yet the river doesn't object to the traffic. It doesn't turn craft over and throw people out into it. It seems to take joy in letting people enjoy its calmness. It welcomes the visitors from foreign shores. It enjoys the locals and tourists taking advantage of it.
In my part of the river, along the edge, in bays, there are beaches. Flat beaches. Sandy beaches. Slowly sloping into the water beaches. Many, many children of all ages from toddlers to teens and adults and dogs enjoy the gentle lapping of the water on the sand. The promise of warmth brings many to its edge and into the shallows. Wilder days see many walkers on the sands. And then there are the rocky foreshore beaches where little puddles in the rocks shelter small hard shelled creatures that small children discover. Water Spiders as 2 little girls I know used to call them are just a few of the creatures.
Further down the channel there are farms growing food in the water. Further up the river there are businesses relying on the water to run.
And the water is clear, crystal clear. So clear. No muddy murky water. Just clean clear water in colours associated with a different area of the continent.
I love the water. I love looking at the water. It is so pretty, so calming. So different each day. A magnificent body of life and essential for living.
You can read more about the River Derwent here
The colours of the water are varied. From deep teal to azure, from a dark and stormy grey to an almost black blue. The surface of the water can change too. Some days it is like a mirror. Like a frozen pond. The evening lights are perfectly reflected in its surface. Other days it is a busy port with movement trails left behind where the movement in the tide leaves a trace of its tracks. Other days it can be rough with white caps breaking the surface.
The surface of the water also tell me the weather that is coming. White caps mean wind. Calm can mean rain. It doesn't matter the surface. It just matters that it is there.
The river is a busy place. No commuter ferries. Pleasure craft, yachts and a lot of kayaks play on the surface near the banks. There are a few tourist boats which traverse the waters but not many and not often. The centre channel is left free for the cruise ships and Antarctic boats. Even war ships.
Yet the river doesn't object to the traffic. It doesn't turn craft over and throw people out into it. It seems to take joy in letting people enjoy its calmness. It welcomes the visitors from foreign shores. It enjoys the locals and tourists taking advantage of it.
In my part of the river, along the edge, in bays, there are beaches. Flat beaches. Sandy beaches. Slowly sloping into the water beaches. Many, many children of all ages from toddlers to teens and adults and dogs enjoy the gentle lapping of the water on the sand. The promise of warmth brings many to its edge and into the shallows. Wilder days see many walkers on the sands. And then there are the rocky foreshore beaches where little puddles in the rocks shelter small hard shelled creatures that small children discover. Water Spiders as 2 little girls I know used to call them are just a few of the creatures.
Further down the channel there are farms growing food in the water. Further up the river there are businesses relying on the water to run.
And the water is clear, crystal clear. So clear. No muddy murky water. Just clean clear water in colours associated with a different area of the continent.
I love the water. I love looking at the water. It is so pretty, so calming. So different each day. A magnificent body of life and essential for living.
You can read more about the River Derwent here
The Lump of Land
The Lump of Land which is now in my life tells me many things.
In the morning I love watching the autumn sun warm its cliffs as the light creeps down the side of the mountain to warm the waiting houses in its shadows. When the sky is blue behind it the magnificence of its stance and structure is only truly realised.
It tells the tell tale of the day ahead. I have seen the clear skies around it and then watched in awe as the fog pours down the valley and encompasses its peak, often hugging the top in a cloud for most of the day. Or. In vast contrast. Watched as the heat from the sun battles through the chill in the air to burn that cloud off leaving the top in full view.
I have watched summer rains happen 'on the other side' and sat smugly in the sunshine knowing we won't get that rain and my washing is safe on the line. There is a fine line though where the rain decides my smugness is uncalled for and will race across the river to my waiting washing. I am learning where that line is on the land so I can be prepared and remove the rains temptation. A game of cat and mouse or dare.
From the top of the lump you look out over a marbled map of bays and islands, beaches and other hilltops. You can see up 'the valley'. You can pin point land marks along the land, easily recognisable landmarks that help you get your bearings. There are no cafe's at the top. No souvenir shops. No restaurant. No coffee cart. Just people enjoying the view and the history. The walks. The clean, clean, cold, crisp air. Respecting the magnificence.
From my bedroom window at night I know when there is likely to be an aurora happening because there are car lights clearly visible after dark as they wind their way up the road that will take them to the top. There are no street lights on the road, that would take away some of the magic.
On our drive to school we inch closer and closer to the base. A's school is near the bottom. There is a corner we turn heading up Macquarie St where the mountain occupies the entire view. It is amazing. Some days it's all mountain, other days almost the whole lump and the peak is under cloud and then some days there's a grey fog where the lump should be, hiding it.
There are many visitors to the top. Many. All year round. Some hike. Some bike ride. Most go in a car or a tourist van or coach. There are people who are prepared, many who aren't. Warmth in the city is replaced by, often, a very cold wind. It can be up to 10 or 15 degrees cooler at the summit. Even in the sunshine.
I've been to the top twice now. Both in daylight. Both cold. The first time there was snow. The second time there was just cold. It doesn't take long to get to the top in the car. It's worth it.
The lump facts... from Wikipedia, you can read more about it here
Mount Wellington - kunanyi
Rise 1,271 metres over the city of Hobart
It really is quite a spectacular wonder. I am in awe of its might and love that it greets me every morning when I open my blinds to tell me secrets of the day ahead.
In the morning I love watching the autumn sun warm its cliffs as the light creeps down the side of the mountain to warm the waiting houses in its shadows. When the sky is blue behind it the magnificence of its stance and structure is only truly realised.
It tells the tell tale of the day ahead. I have seen the clear skies around it and then watched in awe as the fog pours down the valley and encompasses its peak, often hugging the top in a cloud for most of the day. Or. In vast contrast. Watched as the heat from the sun battles through the chill in the air to burn that cloud off leaving the top in full view.
I have watched summer rains happen 'on the other side' and sat smugly in the sunshine knowing we won't get that rain and my washing is safe on the line. There is a fine line though where the rain decides my smugness is uncalled for and will race across the river to my waiting washing. I am learning where that line is on the land so I can be prepared and remove the rains temptation. A game of cat and mouse or dare.
From the top of the lump you look out over a marbled map of bays and islands, beaches and other hilltops. You can see up 'the valley'. You can pin point land marks along the land, easily recognisable landmarks that help you get your bearings. There are no cafe's at the top. No souvenir shops. No restaurant. No coffee cart. Just people enjoying the view and the history. The walks. The clean, clean, cold, crisp air. Respecting the magnificence.
From my bedroom window at night I know when there is likely to be an aurora happening because there are car lights clearly visible after dark as they wind their way up the road that will take them to the top. There are no street lights on the road, that would take away some of the magic.
On our drive to school we inch closer and closer to the base. A's school is near the bottom. There is a corner we turn heading up Macquarie St where the mountain occupies the entire view. It is amazing. Some days it's all mountain, other days almost the whole lump and the peak is under cloud and then some days there's a grey fog where the lump should be, hiding it.
There are many visitors to the top. Many. All year round. Some hike. Some bike ride. Most go in a car or a tourist van or coach. There are people who are prepared, many who aren't. Warmth in the city is replaced by, often, a very cold wind. It can be up to 10 or 15 degrees cooler at the summit. Even in the sunshine.
I've been to the top twice now. Both in daylight. Both cold. The first time there was snow. The second time there was just cold. It doesn't take long to get to the top in the car. It's worth it.
The lump facts... from Wikipedia, you can read more about it here
Mount Wellington - kunanyi
Rise 1,271 metres over the city of Hobart
It really is quite a spectacular wonder. I am in awe of its might and love that it greets me every morning when I open my blinds to tell me secrets of the day ahead.
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