Mists

Mists are magnificent. They deserved to be reviewed like a nocturne or a fine red. This week we have had mists of an extraodinary calibre here on the mount. A fine summer mist is a blessing from the hills. In a week which sees our lowlands grilled with enervating blasts and vile days of sickly sweltering, the mists roll into the altitudes and provide eucalyptus scented respite and delight.

"It is just so lovely it makes you want to cry !"

Could be heard the exclamations of the itinerant acolyte. And so it was.

Pinks and Mist

The signature colour of Mount Victoria is pink. The place is magic because of it.

As a victorian spa town the pink buildings and fences relax the post-colonial soul as much as it might have delighted a pining colonial. A continuing history is kept in the hue of the place.

The place is more pink than the walls and details though. The earth is damask too. Walking through the bush each weekend I tred on slates and grains of stone all pinkish about the forrest floor.

The Australian grey-green bushland burns to blacks and amber bronzes after fire and the flowers sparkle white, yellow and telopian red. Beneath your feet though rising and cascading between the narabeen sandstone is pinkstone. Ochres that dustily crept from their dreaming into the fretwork of the settlement.

"The ground on which we stand and live from, is dark n' pink."

(excerpt from 'mad mic')

It's a short day

Snowvember Mount Vic

Usually, over the last three years, it has snowed on weekdays when we cannot enjoy the sight fully. But today at our leisure we took in the changing weather...


We could see it heading our way in the mid afternoon. A quick November snow burst. Soon it was upon us. Not settling but drifty flakes falling in a Saturday way. Definite Flakes. Hard to catch snow flakes in light momentary drifts but sweet to be here. A contrast to the November Bushfire that went through the place two years prior !

Mt Vic Mist is a punter that reviews.

Mount Vic Mist is a punter whom chooses to review those things which come to attention as noteworthy. Punters are allowed to do that.

We are independent in so much as we like what we like. We are independent in so much as it is a free country to pursue one's interests. We are having fun. If you are like us you may get a great deal of value out of it, if not then not. We follow our nose, and if we are amused, we write.

God forfend that we should give offense. But that is the way of things. Enjoy it !

So there it goes ...2007

The last light of Two Thousand and Seven

As seen from Mount Victoria NSW Australia.

175th Year passes with pomp.

175 years is a blip on the timeline of this ancient land, but colour and movement is a thing that deserves to be mentioned. Especially when it reminds us of our own richly interesting and complex history. A tree planting is worth it's weight in carbon alone. We rest in the shade of whatever comes before us and so too will our following generations. The red coats came and drank awhile, and their musical accompaniment was delightful to hear on the lawn of the beery Imperial.

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The Summer though it looms it doth Bloom..!

How nice it is to simply walk in the altitudes. The cicadas are indeed doing their maddening best to mesmerise us with their ancient chants this year, something that didn't happen last year, but nevertheless a sweet show of native blooms distracts us pinkly !

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'Tis Delightful frolick is't not ?

What better venue is there than the mountains to cut a rug or quaff ambrosia ? How fine are the blue mountains for such activity ?

Plenty fine !

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