“When you take the free will out of education, that turns it into schooling.”
John Taylor Gatto
An Old Bush Road
Dear old road, wheel-worn and broken,
Winding thro’ the forest green,
Barred with shadow and with sunshine,
Misty vistas drawn between.
Grim, scarred bluegums ranged austerely,
Lifting blackened columns each
To the large, fair fields of azure,
Stretching ever out of reach.
foto – mists in december bilambil cottage 2008
Cha deinee rieau yn soogh y shang.
"The greedy will never feel for the hungry."
FOTO-THE MOB’S DINNER AT BILAMBIL
Think to-day and speak to-morrow.
foto- ilnam estate winery
A child’s service is little, yet he is no little fool that despiseth it.
Sail, quoth the king ; hold, faith the wind.
FOTO – OWL AND PUSSYCAT BY ERIS FLEMING AS HUNG IN GRAYDON GALLERY NEW FARM BRISBANE.
(A poem of Ayers Rock)
Take time to look, look again - feel the land through your feet; the Snake will not harm those who show the proper respect. Those who rush in must be strangers. "It will attack strangers."
FOTO - SNAKE IN WEE GARDEN BILAMBIL COTTAGE 2006
Keep him at least three paces distant who hates bread, music and the laugh of a child. Lavater
“Pigmei gigantum humeris impositi plusquam ipsi gigantes vident”
“Pigmies placed on the shoulders of giants see more than the giants themselves.”
Lucan AD 39-65, The Civil War, Book II, 10
FOTO – BILAMBIL BLUES CLUB 2007.
Mכε KUN DAUN Mכε, A EE CHIAN Pכε MA.
If yu ebul it pכsin in hed, nכ fred dכti na di yai.
If you can bring yourself to eat a person’s head, you don’t have to be afraid to eat the dirt (the sand) in the eye.
FOTO – LAMP SHINES ON LIZARDS, VW AND KAZOOS IN RED HILL 2007
Ralph de Bricassart: (the legend of the thorn bird ) There’s a story , a legend, about a bird that sings just once in its life. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree… and never rests until it’s found one. And then it sings more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. And singing, it impales itself on the longest, sharpest thorn. But, as it dies, it rises above its own agony, to outsing the lark and the nightingale. The thorn bird pays its life for just one song, but the whole world stills to listen, and God in his heaven smiles.
by Colleen McCullough
FOTO – FEEDING MAGPIES AT BILAMBIL 2009