And especially so since Paula is back from extended absence from blogging. Today's challenge asks for something that changed the original aspect of a place.
Recently, on a steamy afternoon, my companion insisted I accompany him to the top of a mountain. I set off, grumbling to myself emphatically “I don't want to do this. I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS!”
The path was no incentive. Dense shoulder high thistles curved over it, threatening maybe-snakes, maybe-tripping-over. J is much fitter than me, and he was soon out of sight. I persevered. At a rest stop I heard a sound like a two-stroke engine starting up, and began to feel a bit mellower even though I couldn't spot the koala making this strange sound.
The path became wider – and steeper, but somehow this didn't matter anymore. When I finally reached the trig station at the top I had a panoramic view out over country we'd been traversing for the last few days, and a chance to sit and soak it up. Suddenly thistles seemed insignificant.
This week, my Thursday was triply special. It began walking with a friend on her beach. She warbled to magpies on the rocks, and they warbled back: it really was a conversation.
As I drove the Potato Point circuit to look at the beach, as I always do, a ritual of homecoming, a python made its elegant and unhurried way across the road and into the grass.
And when I stalked my Australian daughter on her Facebook page, I discovered there were new additions to her family.
Thank you Paula for giving me a chance to assemble the delights of the day.
Paula at http://bopaula.wordpress.com/2014/10/23/thursdays-special-landscape/ invites participation in her Thursday's special post. Her photos are always special, so click and look.
I've become quite blasé about kangaroos and wallabies. Wherever I walk around home I see them: munching on grass with a joey hanging out the pouch; lounging, up to twenty of them, on the grassy stretch down by the creek; bounding off the track into the bush as I approach them heading out to the headland; and occasionally investigating my drive. I forget that to people from elsewhere they are exotic, and encounters I take for granted would be highlights of a visit for friends from the northern hemisphere. The down side of their presence is the need for supreme caution as I drive into my village from the highway: I would hate to hit a macropod eruption from the dark.
This post is linked to Paula's weekly non-challenge: have a look at her portrait of a cactus.