Neptune's been playing spillikins

... at "the edge of the world" on the north-west coast of Tasmania. The point gets its name from a poem by Brian Inder* that's displayed on the rocks there. As soon as we left the car, the heavens opened and it bucketed down, adding atmosphere to the beautiful ruggedness of the coastline.

Earlier, we'd looked down over the Arthur River, watching steam rise through the tall trees (see the Extra that includes a view at river level). The trees vie for dominance - eucalypt, blackwood and sassafrass - and line the river so cosily.

From the sublime to the ridiculous-ly delightful town of Penguin on the north coast (between Somerset and Devonport!!) The council and businesses exploit the name at every opportunity - even the rubbish bins have a penguin motif. If you take a peek at my other Extra, you can see how birds of a feather grow old together! Had a fabulous lunch, which wasn't a penguin-burger.

Now in Launceston for a couple of nights. I'll bid you goodnight (even if it is your lunchtime) and leave you with *The Edge of the World poem - not mine - Brian Inder's:

I cast my pebble on to the shore of Eternity
To be washed by the Ocean of Time.
It has shape, form and substance.
It is me.
One day I will be no more
But my pebble will remain here
On the shore of Eternity,
Mute witness for the aeons
That today I came and stood
At the edge of the world.

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