Strange how themes emerge and transform. First, I saw this stripey wheelbarrow planter on the Potato Point Road …
… and planters became the thing I kept seeing: a hollow trunk overflowing with Sydney rock orchids; a boat in front of an old shed with ghost writing speaking to Bodalla’s past; a mosaic planter beside the highway in Narooma.
From there it became other things roadside: at Beauty Point on the Bermagui Road a bus shelter, beautifully sited; and at Fairhaven a plaque marking Aboriginal trading routes, with directions to an ancient midden, which I don’t see till I get home.
I didn’t even really see the plaque: I stopped to look at the figure inside a hollow log.
Nor was that the only thing I didn’t see. I was on my way to a concert at Four Winds – violin and classical piano accordion. I pulled over at Cuttagee Beach, and was so busy scrutinising my sandwich I didn’t see the spectacle in front of me until cars began pulling up beside me: whales close in heading south with a display of tail and mighty fin, and the odd blow.