Show Me The Treasure

Can a flower be too gorgeous, too exuberantly pettaline? No, No, No, Non a vera! Here the double luxury of pink peonies multiplies lavishly in the mirror. Right now my house is something of floral fiat, gardenias in sugar bowls, peonies in pewter jugs, a posey of pansies in the wobbling-base composite vase which is the lid of

The Phoenix palm - Fibonnacci-ist of the garden - somehow always manages to be centre stage, even when it's leaning North-North-East. It will be no surprise this is done in prussian blue, and a calligraphy brush, a great lesson in the difference between the beginning and the end. The Phoenix palm - Fibonnacci-ist of the garden - somehow

At first glance I thought this pole with its red tape, yellow tape (repeat, repeat), was a new species of street art, but no, it's a warning that this Pole is not to be crossed. It does suggest some a joke of the What-Do-You-Get- When- You-Cross-a Pole kind. Pondering possible answers, I think they might involve Poland, The

Now, it seems a door-to-door salesman has materialised, in a sudden kind of way, on Bart Brassica's front porch selling Shadows. Bart's regular shadow upped and left due to certain, let's say, less than sensitive remarks by Bart who was in a pickle from drinking fermented beat pickle liquor. Granny Egg took this photo of the salesman talking

In a moment of implicit intergenerational evolutionary discontinuity, the author of this sign at Macquarie University playing fields has decided that a child is not a person. Then there is that ominous claim of a removal right, and the disproportionate burden of 'all' children on 'an' adult. While this discontinuity from Darwin's thesis is strange, the Author of

It seems that even the same smallish restaurant,Tanpopo, which I've now sketched quite a few times, always has some new aspect to try and catch, the way the fluoro light shines down on the chef at the back , the slight movement of the paper lanterns in the breeze from the door or the cerise cushions that miraculously

November is a sticky month in Sydney, and this week the fold up chair came into its own [- though surely there was a Mr Hulot moment when I stood up and the chair stuck to my derrier] so I sat under a Norfolk Pine and looked back across the carpark, the road - which obligingly reduced its

As constant readers will know, Bart Brassica has a peculiar colourised shadow (see the Colourised Shadow post ). A recently discovered snap taken from the Marlborough Hotel outside of Cooma, NSW, shows a dark Bart Brassica shaped space has taken up residence on the verandah that looks out over the nearby hills and telegraph poles. There is

In the last year, since visiting Japan and being impressed, while pressing my light weight boot on the finer points of street art, that is the well-designed hatches for the various sub-plots of services which are to be found in every city, I've had my eye out for similar local designs of fine mettle in metal but have

In May I sketched my dolphin torch, an ode, of sorts, in black and yellow to its stalwart aid, on black trips at night to the meter box, more often of late, late night walking back from my writing shed, when all the world is seemingly asleep to it shines my way back down the stairs, across the

There is might be a survey of popular stances for men watching sport, the classic folded-arms-with- a-tilt to-one-side-, for the knowledgable aside, and the ever reliable, hand-in-pocket-leaving-the-other- to-point. After the empty nest of Wednesday afternoon at Keirle Park, a one-off switch to Tuesday finds a field of under 8's playing tag footie with a contingent of sideliners, the

Is there something more introspective about Wednesday's that drew my attention to the flowering tea trees that edge the carpark of Keirle Park? Perhaps one should rightly attend to the significant floral events like these as well as the busyness of people. You can't see them in the background but there were people skating, tennis players ambling