via Daily Prompt: Cavity

Known locally as the Super Pit, I fly over Australia’s largest open cut gold mine on a regular basis.  The maw takes one’s breath away.  It is nearly 600 metres deep, 1.5 km wide and 3.5 km long.  It neighbours the twin towns of Kalgoorlie-Boulder, in Western Australia.DSCN7349.jpg

I’ve also stood at the viewing gallery and peered in.  Fascinating!  Like watching an ant farm.  The history, just as fascinating, and goes back to the late 1800s and to the time of the Gold Rush in these parts.

They’ve come a long way from shovels and carts.


The precision of the cut, sliced through hard earth, leaves layers for the eye to see but is it depth?


I reflect.

I know there’s gold in there.

Why else would people dig deep to create this cavity?

Perhaps to excavate, excise, remove, claim, maybe even dare I say, reclaim?


So I look closer … even closer … at the minute particles of dust and debris that make the (w)hole.


And like that solitary miner …


return home to a happier place, without the memory of you and me.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird



via Daily Prompt: Stifle

I heard her before I saw her.  I had no idea what the sound was until later.  She was grooming her quills with big sweeping strokes in the dead of night.

Early morning I stepped outside my hut to a soft sunrise in harsh Kimberley country.  She was magnificent!  Instinctively, she stopped.  An icon in iconic country.  I took her picture.


I learn her name over a campfire breakfast.  I had to stifle my grin.  Marilyn!


Some may regard it as an incongruous name for this big flightless bird. But, she is a star. She’s equally beautiful, standing tall on big feet or resting among rocks.


The most graceful thing about her is her walk.  Slow, rhythmic with a deliberate sway that comes from being bottom heavy.


Transported to that moment, the sound of her strides my lullaby.

Until next time,

As always,

a dawn bird


In shells, a memory …

When in Geraldton, in the Midwest of Western Australia, I often find myself grabbing a quick lunch at St Georges Beach while seated in my car.  I angle myself comfortably, to watch the distinctive trees.  In the still of the moment, they look like they are responding to a sea breeze.  They are poised, but do not break.

During the last trip, the trees took me where I’ve wanted to be each time I visit this sea city.  Just beyond the beige.


Is white a different shade of beige?  I’m not sure but the difference is remarkable.


I zoomed in for a closer look, and saw so much more.  In a cup of a shell, there were smaller, tinier shells.


Some fused with coral.


My first blue shell!


A sea sponge, as distinctive as a hairdo.


Thousands of broken and whole shells, pieces of coral too.


A translucent shell, agape.


I missed the details on the countless trips I’ve made.

Moving from the beige to beyond, I returned home and read up on shells.  There is so much about them I do not know and have yet to learn.

What I did learn is, shells once belonged to living creatures.  They are remnants of what was and become footprints in the sand.


Just like memories.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird




An Inscrutable Moment

via Daily Prompt: Inscrutable


Your name is Anzac.

Your eyes are liquid.  I swim in them finding new depths each day.

While the young, muscled farrier worked, your gentle gaze I sought discreetly.

You were one of many horses, and yet, you were the only one.

I saw myself in your amber eyes.  The way you saw me.

In that inscrutable moment,

How did you know?

I had never touched a horse

until you touched me.

a dawn bird

The healing

One of my favourite quotes by Harville Hendrix is framed and visible on my work desk, for all those who walk in to see.  “We are born in relationship, we are wounded in relationship, and we can be healed in relationship.”

I was introduced to this type of thinking over twenty years ago.  Times have changed.  People have changed.  Perceptions have changed.  I have changed.  This was brought home to me recently.

I was visiting someone who has dogs.  For hours the rescue dog was outdoors and I watched him intermittently.  Then, someone opened the door.  He came in and went straight to my feet and settled himself.  Ordinarily, I would be wary.  I have been bitten by dogs on two occasions.  Even though these events happened in the distant past, the anxiety around dogs remained.  At a delicious lunch at a seaside cafe, my colleague mentioned casually.  She observed I was no longer nervous around dogs.  Usually, she is protective of me, but did not have to step in to redirect this time.  I reflected on her observation.

A few years ago my daughter bought M.  It took months before I could stay alone at home with M.  As the days became weeks, her bond with me strengthened each day.  She would give me a baleful, disapproving look each time she watched me pack my suitcase.  She knew I didn’t like her jumping on me.  Desperate to eat her dinner, she would whimper but sit outside the glass door until I allowed her in.  She learned and obeyed my hand command for ‘stop’ almost like it was instinct in her.  While working at home, the silences between the frenetic keystrokes would prompt her to tap, tap, tap her tail, to let me know she was still there.  All communicated without a word, trust grew between us.

My daughter and her partner bought another dog, a companion, they thought for M.  A purebred puppy.  I was disapproving and wary.  No, I tell a lie.  I was scared.  The words, “dominant”, “needs firm training”, “protective of family” did nothing to ease the anxiety.  My daughter wanted him for protection, her partner being FIFO (fly in fly out worker).  I knew he wasn’t the right breed for the family, especially as he was an aloof puppy when only a few weeks old.  I was proved right.  A few months later, his aggression nearly killed M.  There was nothing the young adults could do, but return the puppy to the breeder.  Then, they bought another puppy.

We all fell in love instantly.  She smiles!  All day!  At anything!  And, anyone!  For her, everything is love at first sight.  She shares the love with thousands.  Her social media presence and following, is strong!


M was wary of Em from the very start.  Walked away from her on approach.  M’s memory of being attacked still fresh.  She watched from a distance as Em became beloved and in turn, loved others.  Em did not give up.  She loved M and was never far from her.  Soon M started to respond to Em when she brought toys to her, barking insistently for play time.  M would sigh, a big old sigh of exasperation, climb off the sofa, and indulge Em for a while.

Em is now 11 months old and 45 kg.  M and Em are inseparable.


Harville got it right.

Until next time

As always,

a dawn bird


Egg, a new life


At the end of my last work day this month I found a tiny egg while bush walking.  Right at my feet.  Perhaps it had fallen from a nest but I could not find the source.

My first thought on seeing the egg was “new life”!  I walked back to my car, reflecting on the past month.

I was committed to work differently  this year.  It was at the top of my learning plan.  The old phrase, work smarter, not harder, was something I wanted to practice.  Yet, despite the workload, I still have energy left over to enjoy my break for the next few days.  This is working to plan.  What has made the difference?

At night I list my tasks for the next day.  In the morning, I organise them by priority.

As an independent practitioner, I can pick and choose my work.  I chose well this month.

With the reward firmly in sight, productivity has been easy to achieve.

I want more of the same next month.

But, before then, I’m off to enjoy a brief holiday.  This, my new life.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird