On the Creek

I posted these pictures of my creek to remind myself to sit here daily when I get home.

Creeks are for lazily swimming in; or sitting or standing by; or fishing in. To think, or not, or to meditate by.


I don't go fishing to catch fish - I certainly couldn't feed myself on the catches I get. But non-fishers will never understand. Fishing is a wonderful way to be by a creek and look like you're doing something practical when you're actually practising a wonderful healing form of meditation.

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The Great Raft Race

Held every January, the major cultural and sporting event for the village. Well, not really - I'll upset some adults by saying that - but it sure is if you're under 12 (or over your limit:-)

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Home in Pottsville

I like my home. I should. I chose it very carefully. I first came to the Tweed Coast as an eight-year-old on a family fishing holiday when Hastings Point was a collection of shacks. Over the years I lived thousands of miles from here, but came back every few years, first with the family, later with Lorraine as the kids grew and flew. Finally I packed up the house in Melbourne and wandered all over the Eastern States, from the Yorke Peninsula to Gladstone on the coast, and inland to Lightning Ridge and Broken Hill for a little under a year.

I was searching for my future home and I ended up coming back to Pottsville on the Tweed coast. Since then, I've wandered the world - and I still haven't found a better place. But I'm just a little biased:-)
It's only a small house in a quiet village. the views are what I see out the window as I type this.




In the aerial view, we are beside the creek, just below the first canal. Unfortunately, the area at the top of the picture is now also housing.

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