The creek

This is the creek over the road from the house in Brisbane where my husband grew up. According to him, he spent most of every day here between 1968 and 1981. His mother could be heard if she hollered from the kitchen window, but otherwise there was no-one and nothing around ... except for his brother, roaming hordes of other neighbourhood kids, and the broadest range of tropical wildlife.



We were in Brisbane for Easter, and my husband and his brother took their kids (and me) back to the creek. Ostensibly to look for baby turtles, but none were found. It didn't stop lots of serious searching though ... until number two son thought it would be more fun just to take all his outer clothes off and bumslide down the rocks. Fair enough. The creek is amazingly clean, and very pretty. And completely unchanged for the last forty years, according to my husband.



Number one son was more focussed on panning for gold - his uncle had brought his panning saucer! As you do!! No more success with the gold than with the baby turtles. But we did find baby frogs - when they still have both tadpole legs and tales - and lots of little fish. We saw birds but (thank god) no snakes.



A magical way to spend a sunny morning, especially once I managed to tune out the brothers' reminiscing. Remember that time that kid slipped and smashed his head open? Remember that time we set the bamboo on fire? Remember that time we saw a four metre carpet snake? Remember that time we made chlorine bombs in old milk bottles? I'm amazed either of them made it to adulthood.