Walking around home: August part 3

I: After rain (August 15)

After a night of pretty-well non-stop downpour, we head out to the beach armed with jackets and umbrellas. The camera stays in the car, except for a brief foray where we park. Raindrops were plopping from the tree into puddles, and staying large and round as they glided along, sometimes in a chorus and sometimes pas-de-deux.

Joe crosses the open creek, being sucked down briefly into soft sand. As he walks along the tideline he begins to notice pieces of chiton armour, not common on the open beach, and collects quite a few of them. I put them in the little bag that used to be home to my magnifying glass, ready to photograph on the beach another day.

Back home, I embark on mini walks, just down to the leaky dam at the bottom of the hill, hoping two ducks are still paddling round on it. They aren’t, but there are reflections, and the scoured gutters with patterns of rock and detritus.

The lagoon on our old garden block is spreading after a long time with very little water. Shadows, folds and clouds create an idyllic landscape around it.

On Sunday morning after a night of what seemed like minimal rain (and a helicopter flying over with its lights on) the river was up again, rushing along bank to bank.

II: A crowded Sunday beach (August 16)

Minimal lockdown seems to encourage hordes onto My Beach: stand up paddle boarders, people with dogs, kids with butterfly nets and balls, men with fishing lines, energetic walkers with back pack and camel pack. And us, whose beach it really is.

The creek is flowing fast and brightly.

Swirls of sand or silt are being swept up to the surface and whirl along.

The beach yields familiar things with a twist: two perspectives on a single shell; clusters of bubbles over sand grains; and a seaweed and drift wood arrangement.

Joe decides to collect shells that harmonise and tip them on the sand in a rough circle to see whether he’s got it right.

III: A lunchtime ramble almost without words (August 17)

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