Posted on August 10, 2014
A long afternoon of exploring the back streets lay ahead. This time south of Kingsford Smith drive, a large arterial dividing suburbs and whose street lamps illuminate the back veranda by night. Sunday afternoons also hold a special light, and a mood sharpened by the prospect of diminishing freedom before another working week. It makes one embrace the activity with extra effort and weave a fabric of laughter and simple acts – moment by moment. A tantrum is more easily tolerated, and when a suitably dreary patch of grey presents as a likely ground for street art, the feeling that it was meant to be prevails.
We rounded one curve from a bike path hugging a stretch of green, into another made tunnel like by dense over hanging greenery spilling over back fences on one side, and screening a large concrete culvert on the other. Then down a windy slope to where the grey walls of the underpass presented themselves. The kids dismount, swoop and prowl, flutter and fade as I add my colourful formation – an incongruous mystery. I pick up the pace chased by an encroaching shadow and only a solo jogger bares witness contributing a smiley hello to the afternoon’s proceedings. With the playtime amnesty broken by a fresh tiff, and a coolness returning to the air, we don helmets and head for home, happy to call it a day.
Posted on July 27, 2014
It seems an unlikely combination, taking my eldest 2 kids out for a bike adventure on a sunny Sunday, packed with water bottles, stencil, paste-up, and enough art materials to get the job done.
When I lived in the bush, I took a bike out across sheep paddocks to reach far off woodlands. Drawing board over my shoulder art materials in a backpack – oh and an appropriate beverage of a reasonable vintage. I had my share of spills. On one occasion I was screaming down hill at dusk, scattering the heard and sending cockatoos screeching off into high perches – meeting head on the dank cool air that settles in the low lands and soaks right into the dewy greens. I hit a rock, or sheep bones obscured by a tuft of wallaby grass and flew over the handlebars like some over sized cocky in a trench coat. I walked the bike home the rest of the way that evening, and was extra thankful the alcohol dulled the pain.
But the real object of todays journey was finding a tall playground tower we spied from across Ginninderra Creek in the Umbagong Districk Park last weekend. It didn’t disappoint and we dubbed it “Rocket Tower Playground” – a good place to play tips.
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