The Commonwealth Games Opening Ceremony featured a boy with a lost duck, an airborne tram, flying koalas, giant fish, Queen Elizabeth II and the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. It was almost as theatrical as my sister's wedding. But not quite.
L. is my youngest sister. She has spent the last few years living with her boyfriend in the rolling windswept hills behind Toora near Wilson's Promontory. Having studied the original topography or whatever -ography is involved in finding out what the landscape looked like thousands of years ago, they planted four thousand of whatever trees used to be there before the original rainforest was razed for grazing. Yes, four thousand trees.
In between planting eucalypts, they converted a cow milking shed into quite a passable rural cottage, the kind of thing too often described as 'Tuscan', because it is tan rendered. You kind of expect to see doe-eyed goats emerge from behind a stone wall overhung with grapevines or eighty-year-old grandmothers struggling up a narrow gravel path with a load of greens and a couple of buckets of water.
But no. Only kangaroos nibbling on whatever it is they nibble on and wombats digging huge holes in the surrounding hills. L. adopted a wombat once. They domesticate quite well. She drove it up to Mum's in town and let it walk around the loungeroom.
So my sister's wedding was never going to be a ride in a white Roller, a walk down the aisle, photos outside Captain Cook's Cottage and dinner at Receptions R Us with dancing to Love Is All Around played by the house band.
It was fun. More later.
L. is my youngest sister. She has spent the last few years living with her boyfriend in the rolling windswept hills behind Toora near Wilson's Promontory. Having studied the original topography or whatever -ography is involved in finding out what the landscape looked like thousands of years ago, they planted four thousand of whatever trees used to be there before the original rainforest was razed for grazing. Yes, four thousand trees.
In between planting eucalypts, they converted a cow milking shed into quite a passable rural cottage, the kind of thing too often described as 'Tuscan', because it is tan rendered. You kind of expect to see doe-eyed goats emerge from behind a stone wall overhung with grapevines or eighty-year-old grandmothers struggling up a narrow gravel path with a load of greens and a couple of buckets of water.
But no. Only kangaroos nibbling on whatever it is they nibble on and wombats digging huge holes in the surrounding hills. L. adopted a wombat once. They domesticate quite well. She drove it up to Mum's in town and let it walk around the loungeroom.
So my sister's wedding was never going to be a ride in a white Roller, a walk down the aisle, photos outside Captain Cook's Cottage and dinner at Receptions R Us with dancing to Love Is All Around played by the house band.
It was fun. More later.
Now I'm expecting to hear the ringbearer was a wombat... :)
ReplyDeleteCongrats to your sister.
Close, Dr Alice - not a wombat, but a bird!
ReplyDelete