There’s only one direction I usually turn when I hit the main road where I live and that would be left.  The left turn takes me to the tunnel entry point and from there onto work, friends, old haunts in the old ‘hood, Ikea and Costco.  But yesterday, I turned right instead.  I followed the curve of the road and watched as the apartments and shops gave way to views of the water.  I saw boats bobbing along lazily on the water and took a turn into the nearest parking lot.

Which is how I discovered Lyne Park and the delightfully named Sugar and Spoon cafe that overlooks the Lyne Park Tennis Centre.

Coffee not’s technically food… it’s a vitamin.  So I’m not really thwarting the aim of this post to be nothing to do about food.

How could you visit the Sugar and Spoon cafe and not report it to Instagram via a photo featuring sugar and a spoon?  Brown sugar really does work in coffee.  I might even try this at home.

Across the carpark from the cafe and tennis centre is a beautiful secure playground.  Beyond that, though, is this view out onto Rose Bay.  Google maps tells me we’re looking at Sydney Harbour and Nielsen Park in this photo.  But aren’t there specific names for the bits of land that jut into the water?  For want of a more eloquent and educated way of framing the question?  South Head…. I wonder what and where that actually is.  I really regret not doing any geography at school.

Anyhow.

Further along the bay, closer to the city is where I took this photo.  Catalina’s is to the left and the plane preparing for take off is either a Cessna Caravan Amphibian or a de Havilland Beaver.  Information I obtained from Sydney Seaplanes’ webpage.  It was quite a sight watching the little plane run up speed atop the water as it wound its way through the bay before steadily soaring into the air.  We’re all so used to seeing the huge planes that get us between airports on their massive runways as they prepare for their takeoffs that it’s hard to fathom any plane doing the same off a body of water.

This is me simply sitting on the water’s edge dangling my feet above the water as I felt the sun on my face and basked at the prospect of the weekend possibly going on forever and ever.

There was only one place to be on a wet Easter Monday morning in the company of a preschooler who wasn’t going to an Easter show: The Australian Museum.

And this is the last photo I took this Easter long weekend.  A collection of eggs at the museum.  Their colours are so calming to look at, there’s something very restful about the way they’re arranged and the way they nestle into each other.

Restful.  That’s the word that describes this Easter for me.  Restful.