A mother gets sentimental

My darling Sharon turns 47 today. How old does that make me feel!!!!!

Forgive a mother's bragging.......

I am so proud of her. She sent me her latest photo.

I decided to find one of me at the same age. It took a bit of searching through my old albums but I found one of me at 47 though not looking as glam - I'm eating spaghetti in Talinn, Estonia.

I know she doesn't like this one (though I do) because of her, as she says, 'pudding-basin hair'. But mums are allowed to get sentimental. Most of the photos I took when the children were young have no date on them so I'm guessing here, but I think she's about 7 or 8.  

This is one of my favourite photos of the two of us when Sharon was about 11. 

And here she is at 17 dressed for her Year 12 ball. I admired her because she chose to wear this velvet dress that had come from England for my mum in the 1930s, instead of the satin, big-shouldered, frou-frou ones that were all the rage in 1988. It fitted her perfectly.

With sister Kate a couple of years ago....

... and when she visited Encounter Bay recently. 

So, happy birthday sweetheart. Wish I could be in Perth with you to celebrate. 

Thar she blows...

When Steve's Facebook page signalled that there were whales at Bashams Beach yesterday we decided to give our whale-watching luck one more go before the season ends. The beach is a 10-minute drive from home and we were soon seeking a parking spot along with many others. High on the hill overlooking the beach we could see dark shapes moving through the water; a tourist boat lying further afield.

This was as close as my close-up lens could get.

We hastened down the hill to the viewing platform where I was able to see a bit more. Sadly, no breaching, but it was exciting to see these Southern Rights rolling over and over and frolicking together.

 And... thar she blows. If you look very carefully at this next photo you'll spot the faint watery shower emerging from the spout.

A bit more of the Heysen Trail

It was cold, cloudy and blustery so perhaps not an ideal day to do a bit more of the Heysen Trail. Nevertheless, we dressed wisely and headed to Parsons Beach, 18 kms from home along the rugged coast west of Waitpinga. We followed the track to Parsons Headland, a grassy lookout spot where the wind blew, the waves crashed and we had glorious views of the coast.

Looking down was rewarding as there was quite a bit of colour underfoot.

Eagle-eyed Steve spotted a kangaroo.

... and I quickly snapped this gull.

 We then headed east...

... stopping every now and again for photos.

The track is clearly marked.

We headed for Waitpinga Beach but halfway there we turned around as we have done that part of the walk before.

Looking more like the Michelin man...
but in my defence it was windy and cold.

At least we were warm by the time we got back to the car.
This is my shot of the sun desperately trying to break through.

A birthday with a zero

We celebrated Steve's birthday in style with French toast and maple syrup for breakfast followed by the opening of gifts. Here he is in the jumper I knitted and a book about the making of one of his favourite films. A happy birthday boy.

But the celebrations had only just started. We drove through the lush, freshly rained-on countryside awash with new-born lambs to Langhorne Creek. There we visited Bremerton, one of our favourite wineries where I succumbed to a brandy, apricot and ginger praline log which I shall put away until Christmas. I'm always a sucker for jam, so the grapefruit marmalade was quickly snatched up.

Then it was on to The Winehouse where we had booked for lunch.

My Moroccan lamb tagine was delicious...








... as was Steve's butter chicken.

 What was I thinking?????? Rhubarb and apple crumble with cream AND icecream!

 And coffee and chocolate mud cake for Steve.

We could barely breathe as we staggered away. We never eat anything like this, so on one hand it was a treat and on the other, perhaps not so wise.

So the next day, I decided I needed a long walk. I planned to walk along the roads behind Encounter Bay to the road that leads down to Kings Beach on the coast. This looks steep and something the Tour de France cyclists may have found on the Alpe D'Huez (well I may be overstating that a bit), but although it looks a little daunting I managed it quite easily.

 Then the road took me past farmland and lovely green hills that rolled down to the sea.

 I arrived at Kings Beach then joined the Heysen Trail, heading for the Bluff that you can see in the distance.

It was so peaceful, with not a soul to be seen, and not a sound bar the gentle lapping of the water and the flapping of seabird wings overhead.

Almost there. I know the soursobs are weeds but they look so bright and cheerful.

Along the way was a sign indicating the presence of a well on the beach, dug by the early pioneers. Water was hauled up the steep cliff by a winch. You can just see the remains of the well at the bottom of the photo.

I think most of yesterday's meal had by now been walked off, though I still had another couple of kilometres to go before I got home.