The Split

Today was a big day for our poor little Trigonias (Australian Native Stingless Bees).  We split the hive to double our stock, and it would be fair to say that it causes a bit of disruption to the poor things.  Hopefully they'll settle down in a day or two, and life will get back to something approaching normal for them albeit in a strangely reconfigured abode.

We seem to run our lives in parallel, our bees and us.  

(Photo by Michael Storer since I had my hands full at the time!)

Perspective

A shock of white in a sea of tears.

The tiny water lily flower emerges from the black. 

We contemplate Roger's grief, try to share his burden, and gain a crystal clear understanding of the triviality of our own concerns of the past months.

Taking Counsel

The first canoe trip of the new school year came by today.  Usually we hear them coming long before they arrive on the outbound journey.  We give them no chance of spotting any living thing as they chatter and clatter away in their excitement.    The return journey is somewhat different though as late in the afternoon a gaggle of deathly silent, exhausted children drift downstream waiting for their agony to end.

Today, the river is full of rain washed silt, flowing swiftly with the tide and with a nasty crosswind, so the normal on-water instructions could not take place.  We listened attentively while "Sir" explained the finer points of boat handling and safety from the shore, noting that we were the only ones who actually were.   Then we watched as ten boats took off in every direction but the one in which they were intended, failing entirely to respond to the uncoordinated commands of their crew.

It's quite fun listening to the shouted information about the mangrove roots and the kites nesting just a few metres behind the trees and about how sensitive all this fragile environment is,  but I wonder how he will make himself heard in future years above the noise of the freeway and whether, standing on the concrete abutment, he'll tell them that once there were nesting kites and oyster catchers and flying foxes in this very spot.

I wonder if he knows just how seriously endangered this habitat is.

Not Tears

It never rains, they say, but it pours.   

It's been pouring everywhere but round here of late, and even last night with hundreds of millimetres of rain in surrounding towns, we barely made four for the day, which was quite fortuitous really given that Scott and Lucy's wedding was a mostly outdoors event last night.

After a big night, there's something quite pleasant about waking late to a bright, overcast drizzle.  

Actually given our currently distorted state of mind there would be something quite pleasant about just waking up late!

Surely that hurts

If I had a lump in my throat like that during every meal I'm not sure I'd enjoy food quite so much.

The Eastern Reef Egret comes in white or grey apparently, and this bloke who is is clearly not grey stakes out the other side of the river late every afternoon, hunting among the mangroves.   We've seen him once or perhaps twice over this side very briefly, but it seems he likes his privacy and he's a very cautious character.

Actually come to think of it we see him a lot more than we see the neighbours to our east.  I wonder if they come in white or grey as well.  They certainly seem to take flight when they become aware of our presence!

Skywatch

The Skywatch title is for the benefit of all who are visiting for the first time, and who would otherwise have been visiting my Sunshine Coast Daily Photo blog.  Today actually is Friday, but in what must really be some sort of addled state of mind, my blazing sunset on the Sunshine Coast photo is going to happen tomorrow, a mere day late!

Not to worry.

Now there's a great expression, and it's easier said than done.  

We've been quite relaxed since Monday we think, in a relative sort of way.  We won't know the outcome of the valuation business till mid next week, yet each day we've been awake before dawn as if that will change something in the outcome.   It's not solistalgia, it's not excitement, we have no idea what this strange emotion is that causes us to wake in time to watch the sunrise, but it does.   Surely we'll get over it once we know.   Surely.

Michael is going to take one of the ducks out today, I think I'll take the other, but we'll wait till those clouds turn white.

Diversity

So far, finding a photo per day around the house hasn't been hard at all.  I'm not sure that I considered just how hard this project could become before I started, but once again I find myself seeing things that need recording, because we may well forget they were a part of our daily routine a few years from now.

The flathead are in a bit early I think, although this is just one stray.  Like the soldier crabs, they come at first in schools, leaving tiny imprints on the the sand, and as they grow become less numerous.  Eventually the bigger fish arrive (this one is probably around 400mm long) presumably to breed and be eaten.

At low tide the sand tells an astonishing story about what lives below the surface of the water, and what has been wading in the shallows in search of a feed.