In My Ridleyton Era.
In my covid era.
In my mulberry tree era.
My cycling era. My air-fryer era.
My upper limb surgery era.
My no mortgage lifestyle era.
My friends all having kids era.
My fresh baguette from the shops that morning era.
My savvy and not so savvy investing era.
In my meat puffs era. My New Holland Honeyeater era.
My watching Nash grow old era.
My integration architecture era.
In my working and working out from home era.
My local cafe knows me and my dog's order era.
In my noticing how bad the cold is in winter era.
In my driving twenty minutes to the beach nearly every second summer evening era.
Out of my Ridleyton era.

I feel like, in Nash's head, she is on an eleven year winning streak. Until tonight. This is what happens when the Dentastix slides underneath the couch as you leave the house.

She did not get it out.

A collection of cameraphone photos from Summer 24-25.

A little strawberry left over from spring.

Blooming agapanthus on a morning stroll through North Adelaide.

Golden Hour at the beach.

Red hot chilies for a red hot summer day.

Up before the sun on another hot morning.

Nash doing her best Jaws impression with one of her takeaway sausage rolls during the Christmas bakery shut down.

Road trip wind turbines.

Family moments near mountains.

Victorian high country.

Not rain, sprinklers.

Up early for cheap fruit and vegetables.

Another day drifting closer to the sun.

Nash enjoys sunbaking.

Frangipani

Sand snail eggs reflecting the hot sun's fading light.

A joyous moment on a cafe visit before work and heat.

Onwards into her twelfth year, Nash had a great today.

Starting with getting pats from strangers on the way to the cafe, she then slept from 9 to 5, before an evening walk along a very dry river with Vanessa and mother. Also featuring many servings of chicken, and four turds.

Now well past retirement age, Nash is still yet to be introduced to adult concepts like house repairs, finances, insurance and cleaning.

She has been a jerk many times, but always forgiven.

I took a walk this morning with Vanessa and Nash. We bought coffee from the cafe across the road and drank it on the walk home for our 8:30 meetings. I tilted my head back right before the last corner so I could swallow the final taste of flat white, and I really liked the look of the clouds.

Spring 2024 started with many leftover quiz night cupcakes and pizza slices, and a crisp Sunday morning. Irises were in bloom. Jumpers were worn. A lot happened in the following three months that led to a barefoot walk on the beach last Saturday night as the sun showed no interest in the horizon despite it being well after 7pm.

Tomato plants have grown, exams were passed, pub trivia was won, wellness benefits were spent on putt putt and bouldering. Blinds and shutters have been installed in preparation for the Summer 24-25 playlist. We walked on the beach.

I visited Alligator Gorge, Watson's Bay, and Melbourne twice. I saw the milky way and a miniature horse. Hats and shorts replaced heated gloves and puffer jackets. I witnessed another AFL Grand Final that I'll probably forget. I made a lot of sandwiches seasoned with Gaganis italian herb mix, plus quite a few pizzas. We walked on the beach some more.

I bought a new computer and monitor. I settled into my new job. I rode my bike to a brewery, and then caught the new train line back. Vanessa beat me in arcade basketball many times. I did a lot of gym and I saw Chihuly in the Garden. Nash swam in West Lakes. We walked on the beach.

I took many photos of flowers and birds. And Nash. And sunsets at the beach.

I lost two teeth. I went to Christmas Carols. I wrote a bunch of code. I listened to a lot of music. Over 5000 unique songs, 80+ a day. That's not counting the times when I dug up old mixes for the speaker in the gym, or when I put on Anjunadeep mixes for focused software development, or when Vanessa was DJ in the car on the way to the beach.

It was a good Spring.

I carried Nash downstairs for her pre- sleeptime toilet, set her down and let her out the back door into the garden.

The disturbance of a dog reaching the lawn triggered a loud bash followed by flapping wings. The mulberries have been ripening the last few weeks, so birds are feasting constantly. But this noise was too big to be a bird. Even Nash could tell; she stared up from the grass, half aggression half fear.

Up into the starlight we both watched a bat as it flew up into the Halloween night.

Twenty years on, now it is Nash who conjures an entry on a journal-less day with one animal encounter on the way from toilet to the bed.