Water of Life

 I am no wise man
But I reckon that the Gods of old
Bound the secret fire of life
Inside this dram of gold....

      Acqua Vitae
      Uisge beathe
      Water of Life.


                          


The Dawson River and a smaller stream join here at The Junction in Theodore, a little town that was inundated by floods.

We met Marie at the fence. We stopped because the flowering shrub in her front garden caught our eye.Her husband died seven years ago but there was no way she was leaving her house to go and live in a retirement place to drink cups of tea. She had her garden to keep her busy. And what a pleasant garden it was. She had a keen eye and wondered if that stranger was still sleeping on the verandah of the bowls club. He came into town on a bus and spent the day in the pub before managing to get some shelter from the frost. "Nothing slips by me," she said. "I rang my son and told him about the bloke so my boy came down and had a look but we can't see him." She was happy to take a cutting and pot it up for me but with a few weeks left to travel in Snowy, we thought better of it. "Yes, the floods were bad. I wasn't going to get in the helicopter  but the police said I'd have to go to gaol if I didn't."    

A drizzly day.....would you care for a wee dram?