Sometimes it’s hard to tell.
Which way is up?
seagull
There’s an intruder on this island
It’s me.
All the residents are talking about it. Whenever I leave the cabin, the news goes out to the seagull colony around the house. Guards sound the alarm. Seagulls hop off their nests to come out and squawk at me.
There are eagle sentries all over the island. When I walk, word goes out with their screech. They perch along the bluffs, usually at least 4 near the marina, on the water tower, some fly off to tell the others.
The deer are quiet about it but they know.
The barn swallows announce every time I open the front door. Their nest is packed to the rafters, literally. Time may be near for the little ones to leave.
Actually, this is just like when I lived in downtown Brooklyn in the 1980’s. It was a very safe neighborhood, because it was controlled by the mafia. Safe if you weren’t part of the mafia because, of course, there was the occasional shooting in the local coffee shop. But it was never random. There were sentries posted on every corner, watching out, all day, all night. And this was before everyone had mobile phones. Word got out.
- “We are all visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love… and then we return home.” – Australian Aboriginal saying
Our last night in Tasmania
We’ve said a lot of goodbyes lately. Goodbye to the islands of the Bass Strait-Deal, Dover, Erith and Flinders; goodbye to the people we met; and now goodbye to Tasmania after four wonderful months. We loved how people here know how to embrace life with clean air, wonderful food, beautiful water and islands.
We spent a few days outside Hobart and I got to visit a fiber guild and then a day of dyeing. I needed a fiber fix with ladies. I’ve spent a lot of time hanging out with guys this summer doing manly things.
The wildlife is different from Deal Island, but interesting nonetheless. I never got any good photos of the Black Swans in Hobart.
These ladies laid some glorious eggs for breakfast.
We spent a morning in the brand new MONA in Hobart, the Museum of Old and New Art, which displays an interesting private collection. Tim’s favorite was the poo machine, which mimic’s the human digestive tract. It’s fed twice daily and produces once a day like clockwork, with the aroma to prove it.
Mine was the goldfish juxtaposed with a huge knife. 
