Busy times in Braidwood today, with no chance for deep thought, so here’s a short photo-walk around town.

In these times of protest and disorder, it’s probably instructive to recall that we’ve been here before — but that doesn’t mean that this time can’t be different. We came across this tribute to Bob Dylan on someone’s garden shed, recalling 1964 and the Civil Rights Movement.

JFK was assassinated less than a month after ol’ Bob laid this protest ballad down. Given that 2020 has already given us the worst wildfires in recorded memory followed swiftly by COVID-19, let’s not close our minds to what the next six months might hold — in a US election year to boot.

Talking of history, this notice in a shopfront window on Wallace Street is the only indication of the proprietor’s intentions regarding rolling back the lockdown. The business buys and sells antiques and architectural salvage, so there’s a certain ‘Back to the Future’ air about this sign. Actually, there are times when all of Braidwood has the aura of a town out of time — must be all those listed buildings.

This charming little residence — a fixer-upper if there ever was one — is probably not listed, but take comfort from the thought that your grandiose renovation plans won’t need permission from the council. It’s the very definition of a shotgun shack — so named because you could fire a 12-bore through the house from the front verandah and out the back door without hitting anything.

With just a little vision, patience and a large loan from the bank, this is the kind of graceful Federation cottage you could create — complete with the characteristic roofline, chimneys, and decorative woodwork. Or you could subtly funk it up with some fresh orange and aquamarine paint.

And this little chap caught my eye in the Braidwood Cemetery. He’s been atop his gravestone for a long time, and the elements have added a lovely patina which emphasises the details of his fleece and features. I’m not sure if this is a religious symbol — lamb of God etc. — or a nod to the region’s agricultural heritage. Either way, that skyward gaze has intimations of something more than a lamb’s usual preoccupations — whatever they may be. My speculations on the thoughts of animals end with those of dogs.

Random thoughts, then, for today’s post. We can’t be profound every day, can we? Sometimes, a few vague thoughts and an itchy shutter finger will just have to do. I have high hopes for tomorrow though.