High above, swinging like trapeze artiste's, were webs ...
huge webs ...
with any number of spiders with yellow stripes ...
against an azure sky with not a cloud in sight ...
spiders were everywhere ...
the undergrowth was grey, sparse ...
the life drained out of it by the salt air ...
yet still beautiful ...
like a bush land grave yard ...
an odd burst of colour magnified the beauty of nature ...
yellow and green an aussie tradition ...
looked beautiful and nourished ...
by comparison ...
loving the extremes ...
grasses dehydrated ...
banksia men emerging ...
spiders looming ...
the patterns and textures fascinated!
We rounded a bend and there was ...
formerly The School of Artillery ...
how many times we'd seen both entrances ...
across the oval where ...
countless gallons of blood sweat and tears had been shed ...
we smiled at the gloriousness of it all!
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