Sydney

First light over Sydney Harbour on a chilly early morning as most sleep in on the long weekend Monday, but not me. I’m here to witness the inky depths and the gentle breeze rolling over the surface.

Construction of the Sydney Opera House started in 1959 when Australia was a mostly conservative, inward looking nation. It’s hard to fathom that white, middle class, traditionalist blokes let Jorn Utzon design take shape. (Well there was a lot more to it really)

There’s very little new aerosol art in Sydney’s Surry Hills with the exception of commissioned portraits of footy stars, to find the old pieces, back alleys must be sort. This one is in Fitzroy Lane which was named after Sir Charles Fitzroy who was Governor of NSW 1846-1855.

Diversity is the key, if every morning was a bright and clear day, nothing would be special. Even on a drab, grey Sydney winters dawn, Centennial Park delights with a pond of ducks.

A sunrise, clouds, a jet, a container ship and a rock jetty make this Botany Bay winter scene. And typical of Sydney, I’m at a spot named after an English seaside resort town. Our Ramsgate is not in Kent.

Sunrise approaches behind me as a cool breeze ripples the inky waters of Sydney Harbour. On a clear winter’s day, a couple of icons pose for the shot.

Some light rain overnight, showers possible later, but as I stalked the back streets of Sydney’s Surry Hills at dawn, the clouds above seemed harmless.

The stars and moon align.

The local Dharawal people called Bondi - Boondi or Bundi. The names translates to water breaking over rocks, but on this cool Sydney dawn, the water was rather tranquil.

High hopes under low clouds. Construction in Sydney.

If you like rain, Sydney is the place to be this week. So I wandered just a few metres from my back gate to get as colourful a dawn as I could with the help of the walls on Ridge Place in Surry Hills.

Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat. Harbour Bridge, North Sydney & and Kirribilli - vanished.

I have a special friend that shows me new delights each time I visit. Little Riley Street runs almost the entire length of Sydney’s Surry Hills. It weaves, narrows, pauses, stops and starts, mostly denies vehicle passage and best of all…. holds stories from times recent and old.

As an opportunist, when rain, train and dark are on offer, I’m there. The cloud cover had a warmish early morning at Wimbo Park in Sydney’s Surry Hills as the tram headed east.

Just the seagulls and me on a damp dawn at Sydney’s Manly Beach.

Random acts of unattributed public art makes my heart feel healed. This small stencil piece is in a low traffic spot in Sydney’s Surry Hills. It has been here in Mort Lane for many years and seems to go unnoticed.

The thing about overnight rain in the older areas of built Sydney like Surry Hills, is that it allows for glistening roads, ominous shadows and sparkling starbursts.