Samuel A. Johnson

We had the great fortune to travel to Australia to my daughter’s wedding (is she the prettiest bride in the world?). After the wedding, Callie, Andrew, and his parents, Russ and Anne, showed us around Southern Victoria. This was one fabulous blast before the coronavirus took over the world. Callie&Andrew-56_websize.jpeg

On the Great Ocean Road, southwest of Melbourne, we spent some time with the Twelve Apostles (renamed from “The Sow and Her Piglets” to increase tourism). And we were lucky to see the tiny keystone arch, which might be gone by our next visit!

The birds jumped out as quite a spectacle: the Galah, noted for acting like a silly old man, the Crimson Rosella, probably the most gaudy bird we saw, the tiny New Holland Honeyeater, which eats nectar, the Cockatoos, which were everywhere, pillaging trees great and small, and finally, the Rainbow Lorakeets. This is just a start.

Some of the more striking features of the coast, besides the Apostles (Sow and Piglets) were along the cliffs at Mornington Peninsula National Park. This outcrop I call the Crocodile Mouth Headland. DSC09832 2.jpeg

Why Mountain Breakfast?

Well, many years ago, before computers and the internet, I wrote a short story about a man who carried an enormous length of garden hose up a mountain with the goal of starting a siphon to run water from a lake to his cabin below. His only friend, a water attorney (?!?!), warned him that stealing water could get him in a lot of trouble. But, undeterred by this cautionary advice, he proceeded to climb to the lake and start the siphon. Meanwhile, his friend cooked breakfast in the cabin below. By the time the hose was hooked up, his friend had set fire to the kitchen and lost control of his wits. Just when it looked like the cabin would be burned to ashes, the hose began blasting water, and he was able to save the house. This was the first of several short-short stories in a series that I called Mountain Breakfast, in which each tale involved cooking or eating breakfast in the wild. It was all about humans, all about nature, and all about human nature. I’m still at it, still hiking and thinking and writing tales, although they’re longer now, and not about eating breakfast.