No grapes but the old vine leaves always look good in the wet.

Heavy rain will not deter these Rainbow Lorries from their dinner.

The first A380 on the tarmac in Brisbane.

Typical Queensland view of flowering trees.

Young magpies can be a pain.

Sometimes there is only so much a Mother can stand.

The big cats love water and a bit of fun.

A feast for a honeyeater.

Cats like cameras too but are a bit more cautious.

Another shopping centre dog, but a happy one this time.

Queensland's flowering trees seem to glow with colour.

Waiting for his owner at the shopping centre he sadly watched every single person coming out.

The noisy Mynah is a honey eater and loves our Jacaranda at this time of the year. 

These shining black berries are on a weed in our garden. I can't bring myself to pull them out. 

Today a terrible and beautiful bird arrived in our garden and killed a mynar bird. It was some sort of hawk. Such a beautiful thing but also savage.

Plain old Lavender.

Detail of Hibiscus.

The red hibiscus loves the sun.

White on white.

Kurume azalea.

Australian orchids.

Don't touch.

Did a circuit of my neighbours houses and found an amazing variety of flowers big and small.

A very Irish part of my garden.

Stained windows and extravagant detail.

Loverly red brick and fig trees.

South Brisbane Town Hall appears to be unused at the moment. It is a beautiful building on a busy corner so many people do not get to see it up close. The clock keeps good time and I believe was the first electrically controled clock on a public building in Australia.

The Station
Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision.
We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent.
We are traveling by train.
Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways,
of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazzing on a distant hillside,
of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat,
of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hills,
of city skylines and village halls.
But uppermost in our minds is the final destination.
On a certain day, at a certain hour we will pull into the station.
Bands will be playing and flags will be waving.
Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true and the pieces
of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle
How restlessly we pace the aisles,
damning the minutes for loitering - waiting,
waiting for the station.
When we reach the station, that will be it !!
We cry, "when I'm 18..." "When I buy a new 450 SL Mercedes Benz...
"When I put the last kid through college..." "When I have paid off the mortgage.."
"When I get a promotion..." "When I reach retirement I shall live happily ever after !!
Sooner or later we must realize there is no station,
no one place to arrive at once and for all.
The true joy of life is the trip.
The station is only a dream.
It constantly outdistances us.
It isn't the burdens of today that drive people mad.
It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow.
Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.
So, stop pacing the ailes and counting the miles.
Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice-cream,
go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets,
laugh more, cry less, life must be lived as we go along.
The station will come soon enough.
-- Author unknown