I decided to leave a bit earlier for Merredin, hoping to get there before dark but, roadworks and a big convoy of road trains for part of the journey slowed me down considerably. I am so done with roadworks!
It struck me yesterday how nervous I used to be overtaking one of those big trucks even when there was an overtaking lane. I would never overtake on a country road at any other time. I’ve learnt to trust these drivers. They know they hold up traffic and help out other motorists. Seated high in their rigs they have a good view what’s in the distance. I’ve learnt their helpful signals, two clicks of an indicator means pass or clicks on the opposite side, means get back in lane. If there’s no traffic a thank you wave gets a quick high beam. Communication between strangers who will never meet.
For the stretch between Cunderdin and Kellerberrin there was just one truck ahead of me. The sun was seated at the horizon. It was going to be dark soon. I just had to stop and take a picture. I love those skies in the Wheatbelt!
I spent a few moments resting. It was peaceful with sheep in the paddock. With occasional traffic, it was the silence of solitude that I love so much.
My visit went well. I’ve been asked to do another talk in six months, so I guess that went well too.
I decided to come home after work instead of spending another night there. It’s a 3.5 hour journey and I knew it would be dark for some of the way but I would be closer to the city and street lights. As luck would have it I got delayed at work, and I had already checked out. I had no option but drive home. By the time I got to Kellerberrin, there was haze from burn off and dust from winds. Visibility was poor but the sunset was spectacular. A massive blood red sun that seemed to get bigger as it slipped from view. I just could not find a safe enough spot to take a picture so I just experienced the moment instead.
Although the weather has been warmer for autumn, the landscape is welcoming a cooler change around the Wheatbelt.
There are chocolate shards peeling off gum trees in Narrogin.
This trunk was so tactile. You could feel the life of this big tree in every ripple and indentation. It made me think, one can never say they are alone when they are with trees. They are a silent presence in my moments of solitude. They are a perfect partner for me!
The fallen gum nuts created moments of still life photography of what once was, and still is, beautiful. They made me watch my footsteps and walk mindfully. A teaching moment here, too.
Outside my chalet window, the textures and colours of a young tree, distracted me. Who could blame me?
I’m home where I’m also happy. The major renovations are done. I need to get the painting sorted. The colours will come from nature’s palette. I’m starting to embrace this house as my home. I can envisage what I want with clarity.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Public speaking is a fear experienced by most. As a student, it made my knees go weak, my throat dry and my voice, even softer. I recall the first presentation I made in my undergraduate years to a full class. At the time I worked at the university too and asked Security if I could access the lecture room over the weekend. I stood in an empty room and was in a state of panic over the thought of it being filled with people. I thought of strategies to overcome this. I was using a behavioural strategy to some degree (exposure) but the trigger was visual. So I decided to give the talk without wearing my contacts and told the audience I could not see beyond the first three rows, so if they had a question, they would have to call out instead of raising their hand. It worked a treat! I gave my talk without a stumble and went on to present a paper at a conference in Washington DC before I graduated, not that I’m clever, I was passionate about my research. I ended up walking away from it after I graduated.
There was enough rain overnight to wash my car clean. I also knew the bush reserve of Foxes Lair would have loved the rain. It looked fresh and the perfume of gum trees and rain … just delicious.
The banksia was in autumn colours of copper and gold. 
The delicate manna acacia leaves were perfectly frilled and framed by barbed wire.
The ringneck parrots were high in the gum trees and came down lower after they got used to my presence. This one was a juvenile. I loved the tail feather!
The parrots love gum nuts and I’ve gone used to the shower when I walk under them. It can rain gum nuts when there is a flock feasting. They do hurt when they hit the head!
They can be quite bold. This one took time to come closer after a period of peekaboo.
I watched how they picked up the gum nuts with their claw and ate it. This one did the same with tiny fragments it found. How intelligent they are!
I watched seagulls for a while and their beautiful glass eyes and their sleek profile and wondered if I am the only person who sees the beauty in them?
The hoya plant is beautiful. I had one years ago that was a prolific bloomer and given to me as a cutting by an elderly lady who later passed on. I treasured it but my elderly gardener did not know the sentiment and inadvertently destroyed it. For some reason I never bought one again to replace it even though I love the blooms. Then two years ago another lady gave me a cutting quite spontaneously from her garden. Protected from my gardener, it has been sitting at the kitchen window, a bare stem with two leaves. The hoya flowers bloom all year and are not seasonal.
The sand drift creates amazing dunes. I’ve posted a pic in the previous post. I sit for a few minutes enjoying the sea sculpt the land around me and then from the safety of my car (from all that sand), I love zooming in. I know on busy days we love a beach walk, but did you know you walk on a bejewelled carpet?
The kite surfers loves this beach for the strong winds. I just love it for what it is. A shimmering sea.
As the day wound down I saw a grandmother fishing. It flooded me with emotion. She sat on a chair while wetting a line, the grandchildren were curious and ran around but checked in every few minutes. A circle of security unfolding before me and such a wonderful memory for the grandchildren, of time spent with her. I never knew my grandmothers, so I experienced this moment with a sense of joy and sadness.
The sunset across the water, where you’ll find Pelican Point, is always stunning.
And, in the morning, the water is like glass.
I love the mangroves as the waters recede. I know the waterbirds love it too. I don’t know how but I managed to see the tiny shoveller and got some beautiful pics. For now, I’ll just share one with you.
The waterbird seemed more interested feeding on mud skippers than the crabs of which there were thousands.
Had the crabs not been moving, I would not have seen them either. In some places they looked like a carpet being lifted as they crawled across undulating mud flats.
A Shared Space 
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