Footrot Flats cartoon dog: LIVE FAST. Dunedin, New Zealand
We'd never noticed this bottle effect until recently when we happened to be in Vogel Street in the late afternoon light. Dunedin, New Zealand.
Witch hazel flowers, Hamamelis mollis, at the Dunedin Botanic Garden, New Zealand, cheering up our winter.
This Alice resides in Gardens by the Bay, Singapore. She appeared in my Reader this morning, posted by Joanne Koo on her blog Pot Gardening. Joanne tells me that Alice was bought from Chelsea Flower Show two years ago.
"Chasing Waterfalls" completed in January 2017 at 80 Bond Street, Dunedin, New Zealand. Its way down the end of a rough looking alley. Fantastic mural. "Quick collaboration piece" by Emmanuel Jarus and Caratoes according to the Dunedin Street Art website.
Having strayed away from being involved in Christian things for more years than I want to let on, I'm actively making the effort to reconnect. In May I found a blog called Looking for God in Messy Places.
Girl mischief. Offense and defense. Pink paint. I love this panoramic mural tucked away in a little side alley at 106 Bond Street, Dunedin, New Zealand. The artist, Be free, is a Melbourne artist that has been working on the streets since 2010.
Pink is supposedly such a girlie colour but I was never that keen on it. That thought set off the idea of trying to put together an interesting post on pink! Most images are from WordPress bloggers. ALL photos are used with permission. Many thanks to the "permitters" who all sent such kind replies. Some... Continue Reading →
REBLOG : Right now I long to launch out on a new stage in my life’s journey; to not settle for the status quo. To any other restless souls out there I hope you enjoy reading this poem as much as I did.
Hunger Is Not A Harbour by D.B. Donnelly
to all that is new,
to all I have not yet seen,
attracted to the covered corners
the light can not carve comfort into…
to all I don’t yet know,
to all I have not yet called by name,
haunted by the houses not yet home
and the whispers not yet known…
but what of where I have been,
what of the comfort once created,
what of the stories already told,
what of the lives I held once,
for a time,
in my hold?
Am I bold
to this running,
this longing to be always
up and leaving,
for this constant craving,
for another corner to caress creation,
to suppress starvation?
But hunger is not a harbour,
it is not where still waters rest, still.
It is the rest…
into the crest, craving,
rushing up and over,
always and ever…
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