My father, John and my sister Pauline, with Annabelle — his great-granddaughter, her granddaughter and my great-niece, aged eighteen months. Missing: Annabelle's mum, Victoria, who took the picture.

"It was hard to say when exactly winter arrived. The decline was like that of a person into old age, inconspicuous from day to day until the season became an established relentless reality. First came a dip in evening temperatures, then days of continuous rain, confused gusts of Atlantic [or Southern Ocean] wind, dampness, the fall of leaves and the changing of the clocks — though there were still occasional moments of reprieve, mornings when one could leave the house without a coat and the sky was cloudless and bright. But they were like false signs of recovery in a patient upon whom death has passed its sentence. By December [June], the new season was entrenched and the city was covered almost every day by an ominously steely-grey sky, like one in a painting by Mantegna or Veronese, the perfect backdrop to the crucifixion of Christ or to a day beneath the bedclothes. The neighbourhood park became a desolate spread of mud and water, lit up at night by rain-streaked lamps. Passing it one evening during a downpour, I recalled how, in the intense heat of the previous summer, I had stretched out on the ground and let my bare feet slip from my shoes to caress the grass and how this direct contact with the earth had brought with it a sense of freedom and expansiveness, summer breaking down the usual boundaries between indoors and out, and allowing me to feel as much at home in the world as in my own bedroom."
—Alian de Botton. The Art of Travel. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2002, p. 5.
Picture: Background detail from The wedding at Cana by Paolo Veronese, 1562. Louvre Museum, Paris,

James and I grieve the death of David Gowty on Wednesday 6th March, the day before his 67th birthday. David died in hospital in Brisbane from organ failure caused by aggressive non-Hodgkins lymphoma. He and his wife Beryl were long-standing members of St Philip's church here in Canberra and moved to Brisbane only recently following David's retirement. David and Beryl visited Canberra most recently on 3rd of February.

Beryl and David's son Tim and Tim's fiancée Melinda are members of our church family. So too is Tim's sister Sarah, though she is currently working in Afghanistan … following in her father's footsteps. All are special friends.

David's life-work was in international development, which took him and his family on assignment to Africa and Asia and the Pacific. Most recently, David was a Planning Adviser in the Secretariat of the Pacific Community in Nouméa.

This death has shaken me more that most I have known. I'm as much angry as sad. This is not God's doing.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
— Dylan Thomas

(The picture was taken by Sarah in Afghanistan.)

I've joined a U3A class that takes as stroll through the Australian National Botanic Gardens once a week to learn more about the gardens and the plants. I was delighted and surprised to discover Sturt's Desert Pea, Swainsona formosa, growing; it's difficult to cultivate outside natural central Australian desert environment as it's prone to disease.

Although Swainsona formosa is a perennial, the ANBG has to regrow them each year from seed, as they do not survive the frosty Canberra winters.

Swainsona formosa is a symbol of Charles Sturt University, where I studied theology.

Today's maximum temperature in Canberra of 41.5˚C (106.5˚F) is probably the highest I've ever experienced. It is the highest January temperature ever recorded in Canberra, and the second highest ever. With a strong breeze blowing, it was like a blast furnace walking outside in the middle of the day.

Sydney is even hotter, with 45.8˚C (114.4˚F) recorded at Observatory Hill at 2.55pm—an all-time record. Many suburbs have experienced temperatures over 45˚C, including 46.5˚C (115.7˚F) Penrith and 46.4˚C (115.5˚F) at Sydney airport—also all-time records.

Astonishing.