_dgp1330Last nights Super Moon.

As I looked  out of the bedroom window this morning I remembered the old adage that what goes up must come down and sure enough even though the sun was up the Moon was still lingering.

So I ventured out and looked first  to the West


and then to the East.


The Camels Hump was shrouded in mist.


The ground was wet, the air was crisp and sharp even for a November in Australia.

My socks were damp in the bottom of my Wellies. No Kangaroos or Hares about this morning they were still dozing in slumber.

The sound of Australian Skylarks sang overhead. Their twittering took me back to never ending school summer holidays from years gone by.

_dgp1501A Wild Asparagus encrusted in dew danced in the morning sun for warmth.

A ruined Shepherds hut was surrounded by an ocean of mist.

island of mist

The mist had cleared from the Camels Hump.


A bird sat on a wire. Maybe a Skylark? If I had a larger lens I could tell you.


The dam is  full and silent.


Six Pencil Pines stand tall like sentinels.


The light from the morning sun filters through the pine copse.


Can you smell Bacon ?


No neither can I.
It’s toast and marmalade I’m afraid.



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