Blue dragonfly at billabong, somewhere in the Kimberley Region, Western Australia
The symbolism of a dragonfly is transformative change from within.
May it transform your life in the way it did mine.
a dawn bird
In response to July- Blues
Category: musings
A glimpse of me, the bride …
Dr T and I were living together before we decided to married. Having lived overseas for several years I just assumed it would be a Western style wedding. I bought dozens of bridal magazines and set about planning my dress. Dr T did not comment on any of this. One day curled up in a chair I absentmindedly asked him what kind of dress did he think I should get. It was like he was waiting for that question. His response was immediate. A sari! It was not what I expected from my Anglo Canadian partner. I had worn a sari only once before. It was on a special birthday and my mother was in Perth to help me wear the hot pink and turquoise silk sari. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was completely smitten seeing me in one. He was even more smitten that the sari could be unravelled in one swift movement. I can be quite oblivious to the obvious sometimes!
Now I’m not sure if you know much about saris. There are many, many styles worn in different parts of India. In my part of world (central India), a sari is 6.5 yards long, worn with pleats in the front and a shawl like drape over the left shoulder. A woman wears a skirt underneath into which the sari is tucked into. She wears a blouse that reaches to about the last rib. The belly area is exposed (abs in one’s youth was a bonus!). In my mother’s day, underwear was optional! The whole package was Dr T’s dream come true.
So sari it was.
We lived in the UK for several months before getting married as Dr T was on sabbatical there. I stopped off in India, my only visit in decades as I wanted to buy a sari from my home town. In those days shopping for saris was an experience like no other. My mother and entourage were ushered into an air conditioned room, the salesman was seated on a carpeted floor, a man on the mezzanine level threw down bolts of saris, the silks in the brightest of colours, flying through the air. Indian brides (non-Christian brides) wear bright colours on their wedding day but Christian brides opt for cream with a coloured border. Seated in the middle of a sea of rainbows, I could not make up my mind! Everything I looked at was gorgeous and I bought half a dozen or so. For my wedding, I ended up liking the border of one sari but the heavy cream silk of another was outrageously luxurious and I had to have that, too. The salesman had known me when I was a child. He was thrilled I had come from Australia and wanted to make the sale on the condition I sent him a picture of me in the sari, so he could put it in the shop window. He offered to remove the border I liked and transfer it on the silk I loved. I couldn’t have been a happier bride. And … Dr T was an even happier groom.
On reflection it was ironic that I wore such an opulent outfit. The wedding could not have been more low key. We got married in the front yard under the gum tree on a Saturday. The minister was from the Salvation Army and completing his Masters and known to Dr T from university. We had 12 guests, including us, and enjoyed a BBQ after the brief ceremony. We did have Handel’s music being played softly in the background that signalled celebration to anyone within ear shot. We had an enormous wedding cake that Dr T and I demolished over the year. As we exchanged our vows our neighbours came home from grocery shopping and as they unloaded their car, they tried desperately to keep their little children quiet and not disturb us. We went back to work on Monday, without fan fare.
Our relationship lasted over 21 years. I have known him for over 40, and most of those years have been amicable post divorce. I am in a good place. I know he is too.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to Word of the Day Challenge – Opulent
Something, to take the blues away …
A simple overture can open the door to amazing!
Be brave today!
a dawn bird
In response to July- Blues
Not yet jaded …
In a world of information overload, it would be a challenge not to feel everything is ho hum. But I realised some years ago, to find balance I need to be outdoors, away from books, away from work and just be. Nothing else. Just be. The experience is like no other. For me every minute outdoors feels like I’m an hour glass with sand trickling down in a steady stream. When it pools, my head is clear. My spirit is full. I’m recharged and ready to go.
Even though I often visit the same towns several times in a year, and may photograph the same landscape, flora and fauna, there is always something new for me to see. 
Swamp hen, Bunbury wetlands, Western Australia
I have dozens of photographs of swamp hens. I love their peacock colouring (but they do emit an awful strangled screech). In some wetlands they can be shy and move out of sight quickly. They have enormous feet and I was surprised to see this one eat with such delicacy. Pretty clever!
Lake Lefroy, Kambalda West, Western Australia
Lake Lefroy is an ephemeral salt lake in Kambalda (Goldfields region of Western Australia). I’ve been here a couple of times and the hues are different each time. On the day I took this pic, the lake was like a painting.
New Holland Honeyeater, Bunbury wetlands, Western Australia
I love photographing New Holland honeyeaters. They are striking looking birds. I particularly love getting a picture of their tiny tongue that protrudes when feeding.
Silvereye, Bunbury wetlands, Western Australia
Needless to say, the tiny, tiny silvereye is a special joy. They move in flocks but I’ve rarely found one seated side by side. They are quick and drive me insane trying to get a good picture. This one took me by surprise!
Bunbury, Western Australia
Along any coast in Western Australia you’ll see people dedicated to their hobby. From afar, so am I. Nothing new to see but if you photograph people fishing, you’ll find, each picture tells a different story.
Walk along any track in the bush or suburban garden, the Willy Wagtail is the first to greet. I love this picture. He looks all shiny and newly minted. 
Walking along the beach has its moments of calm. Waves are soothing but every now and then, I catch a wave that is different. It makes me stop, look and listen. It makes everything old, new again. That’s what life is all about.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to Word of the Day Challenge – Original
This jolly life …
One morning while walking on the beach in Exmouth I found the things that make me happy and I knew I will spend the rest of my life seeking them.
I realised …
Curiosity makes me happy. As does a feeling of hope. Finding a happy place within, unexpectedly, is a special feeling of joy. Stillness makes me happy. Silence makes me happy, so does solitude. And, the oneness that comes from real connection, even if transient. All these things are free and found within. I spent too many years, window shopping. Now I wander in and take whatever I please.
The variation in shades of blue makes my heart beat faster. I had never stopped to observe this before. I do now.
The crumbs of seashells underfoot that coat my bare feet make me smile. This was just a sandy beach once. Not any more. I had no idea sand looks like this up close.
The humble feather that glitters in dawn light catches my eye. It never did before.
My child like curiosity is piqued peering into these wonderfully perfect ‘windows’.
The scoop of sand left by tide. A reminder always, life is finite.
I find life, in unexpected places. From it, I learn poise.
I find love, too, in unexpected places.
Why wouldn’t I spend the rest of my life doing just what I am doing now?
Hope you are doing exactly what you were meant to do in life.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to Word of the Day Challenge – Jolly
Walking into wellness
My son has been on a mission for several months and determined to get friends on a health kick. He started a walking group for his gamer friends which has proved quite successful with the young men finding new tracks and trails in the city. My son tells me they open up and talk and just enjoy being outdoors and have started to alternate the outdoors with indoor activities in poor weather, like indoor rock climbing, balance bar work, etc. 
Lake Monger, Perth, Western Australia
Today my son was determined to get me out walking too. He is always concerned about my sedentary lifestyle, imposed on me due to my work. Despite the clouds, he insisted we go to Lake Monger, a wetland area that is only about 5 kms from downtown Perth.
I had forgotten how lovely this area is. It was teeming with birds, some I had not seen before. Because he insisted I leave my camera behind, today was for talking and walking, so we agreed to visit again, next time for photography.
I did manage to get a few pictures with my phone camera. Such a peaceful place, right in the heart of the city.
The gum flowers were coming into bloom.
The walking circuit is just under 4 kms. My son and I were surprised I wasn’t exhausted, no muscle strain, no aching feet. (I may feel differently in the morning!). For years I’ve wanted to take part in charity walks but didn’t feel I was fit enough. With camera in hand I’m often too preoccupied to walk fast enough to get my heart rate up. I made a commitment today, I would set aside time to just walk. Walking 4 kms today without effort proves I can do this.
But unfortunately I undid all the good exercise. I was thirsty and indulged in a beautiful shiraz with my lunch!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to RDP – Tuesday: Strain
Hear me roar …
I admit I’m not a cat lover but I find my son’s cat, Baelfire (known as Bae), fascinating. (This picture was taken by my son). Bae has interesting colouring. His face is split in dark and white colours of black, white and brown. I think it is magnificent!
There’s something about cats! My son had given me a book a while back to loan to parents I worked with called ‘All Cats have Asperger’s’. I’m not sure if the title of the book is accurate. People with Asperger’s have a desire to connect with others, they often struggle to work out how this is done. I feel a title like “All Cats are Royalty” would be more appropriate.
Cats can be aloof and can interact on their terms. Anyone with a cat will tell you, they rule the house. They come and go as they please. They act entitled. My friend had a cat once who went next door to live permanently because the neighbour gave the cat better quality cat food (or so my friend thought!). Whatever the reason, the cat acted like everyone should be grateful for its absence or presence. It would visit both houses, great big meow (read roar) and then step out, tail held high. Yes, royalty, king of the jungle.
As my son and his wife have three cats, I admit to enjoying their company a little bit more and probably because my son wants to share their antics with me. I see them differently and find myself smiling at them. Or maybe I’m becoming a softie.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to RDP – Sunday: Lion
Things of wonder
I’ve been working on reports since 7 am and just coming up for air. I browsed through my recent photographs and recalled the wonderful afternoon at Pebble Beach, just outside Exmouth, Western Australia, a place where I exhale.
There are beaches around the world made from pebbles. For us in Australia it is a novelty, much like Shell Beach, in the Shark Bay area, which is made up of trillions of shells. I love Pebble Beach! It is about 13 km out of town and worth the trip as far as I’m concerned. Although the road off the highway is unsealed, you no longer need a 4WD to access the entry to the area (if it hasn’t rained).
The pebbles are all shapes and sizes, some exquisitely tiny.
They look like a melange of sugared almonds.
Some are the size of tiny potatoes, in colour, too.
The pebbles are deposited at this beach by the tides that gather the stones from an escarpment, their journey, their narrative, told in touch and sight. The stones are silky smooth and wonderfully tactile. They are as soothing as handling ‘worry beads’.
What makes me bend down to pick one pebble over another is something I don’t know. It is just a visceral response, a connection, inexplicable and an undefinable yearning that is deliciously soothing, once the pebble is in my hands. Much like the simple reach, to walk hand in hand.
May your Sunday be one of wonder in simple things.
Until next time
a dawn bird
In response to One Word Sunday – Relax
Roses and rainbows … my pick me ups
I return home after each trip expecting my front garden to be bare, but no, the roses keep on blooming. 
This rose has the most wonderful old fashioned perfume.
This is an intense pink rose, the colour, fashionable on lips these days.
I love how the white ice berg roses start off as pale pink buds.
I drove through waterfall rain in the Wheatbelt region recently and was blown away by a massive rainbow in Marchagee (between Moora and Carnamah). The picture is fuzzy because of the rain.
This was outside my plane window on the flight in this morning from Esperance. A mix of rainbow and solar halo. It was magnificent! 
Although I’m not sick of my frequent travel lifestyle, I am sick of travelling in poor weather.
Right now, home is where my heart is. It’s time to plan for a short break in the south west. Or maybe north. Ah!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to RDP – Saturday : Sick
Against all odds …
It’s the start of the new financial year. Contracts are signed. It’s business as usual. In the last week or so I’ve been to Exmouth, driven twice to Coorow and Carnamah in the Wheatbelt and now headed to Esperance. I’m feeling the aftermath of it all travelling between balmy days and freezing cold nights in various regions. It has also been a big six months with my son’s wedding, Dr T’s major surgery and his recovery that did not go as planned. Supporting my family through all this has been an unspoken stress and I had time last night to reflect on this.
They say faith defies logic. My path in life defies logic. It came about when I surrendered and accepted a Greater Plan for my life. The simple prayer “all is well” has brought me immense peace. I have the freedom to work as I please. Love without expectations. Accept with respect what is meant to be, will be. I am where I need to be in my life. And, where I need to be, in the life of others.
I was restless last night and in pain. Mended bones have long memories. I’m off today again and things to do before I leave. I distracted myself last night by making a list of priorities. I know I can’t get everything completed, but I can meet some deadlines. Today I found a poem that I came across about five years ago. I love the child like simplicity expressed in it. Right now I feel what a poem says and thought I’d share it.
God’s Flight (by Heather Flood)
On the ground sits a bird
that’s too afraid to fly
Beautiful wings could make it soar
but the pain of past failure is it’s lonesome cry.
God has said unto this bird,
“Trust and have faith in me,
for I will carry you in your flight
The miracle of life is waiting for you to see.”
The bird said to God, “But I can’t fly.
I am weak. I will fall and feel pain
It’s happened before when I tried to fly
I’m afraid of being hurt again.”
His voice soft and reassuring, God said to the bird,
I created you, and I will protect you
Your lonesome cry I have heard
Have faith in me. That’s all you need to do.
So, stand up, bird, and spread your wings
The wings I lovingly created to let you fly
If you fail I’ll pick you up
and lift you back into the sky.
With trembling legs and unsure wings
the bird finally looked to the sky
It took a deep breath, and took the chance.
The bird began to fly.
“Thank you, God, for believing in me,
Thank you for giving me wings.
Thank you for your protecting hands.
Your glory I will now sing.”
God smiled unto the bird
in its majestic flight
“Little bird, I’ll always be with you,
and will protect you with all my might.
You may stumble. You may fall.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t care.
I will watch over you, in case you need help,
and then I’ll be right there.”
The little bird, once so scared,
learned to soar to new heights.
The occasional fall no longer scared the bird,
choosing to have faith in God’s flight.
Today, against the stiffest of winds, I fly. My wish for you today, is that you do too.
As always
a dawn bird
Always the pupil …
I was early so I waited at the designated spot to watch her arrive. When she does, our greeting is hushed. She has come from a distant shore. We are both indifferent to where that is. She is here and that’s all that matters to me, and her. 
She scatters gifts at my feet.
I walk alongside her. Her generosity knows no bounds.
Soon I’m walking on a welcome carpet.
I am alone with seagulls, and pelican. The pelican reads the tides like a book, scanning it from left to right. I enjoy a moment of stillness, watching him, watching tides.
At her side I am learning. Look for small things. They bring joy.
I bend down and start collecting the smallest shells and pebbles I can find, some the size of rice. At home I bring out a small glass jar, and despite the handfuls I collected, they barely fill an inch. The jar is hope and the void is one I will fill, one day.
Lost in thought, I find joy in symmetry.
I look for pebbles that have melded and find them, marble like. How long did this process take? I will never know. I’m loving the mystery she brings to me.
I find hearts of stone in softest sand and hold them in my hand. They beat, alive.
I’m so tempted to run my fingers through this landscape, but leave it like I found it. And, that’s the lesson I learnt that morning.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to RDP – Tuesday : Pupil
On pointe, we find balance
Little French inspired cafe in the tiny farming town of Moora, Wheatbelt, Western Australia where I enjoy French donuts, bite sized macaroons to the sounds of Edith Piaf over a coffee. The incongruity of this experience, in this town, blows my mind every time!
Old Perth Boys School, circa 1854, smack in the middle of downtown Perth, Western Australia. A view I rarely see but glad the city respects heritage.
Over somewhere beautiful, and where I spend most of my time.
As always
a dawn bird
In response to Judy Dykstra Brown – To the Point Challenge
Turquoise Bay, Western Australia
I’m home and taking a couple of hours off before I leave again. I seem to have missed some lovely prompt words while I was away. I hope it’s okay to make belated contributions to prompts!
I love visiting Exmouth, some 1200 km north of Perth. I feel relaxed when I’m there, even when I visit for work so I always promise myself I’ll return for a holiday (vacation). But whenever I have visited Exmouth, something seems to go wrong before my visit, frequently enough for me to think I’m jinxed!
This time I dared not say where I was going, I just wanted to be there. Despite my silence, the run up to the trip was fraught with managing someone’s crisis, big enough for me to escalate it to another two levels. I should have been relaxed it was now being managed by someone else, but no, the aftermath was just as stressful. I sat at the airport with a coffee, unable to write, observe those around me with interest, or even drink my coffee. I sat with head in hands, feeling utterly spent. I knew where I had been in the last few hours and I dared not anticipate where I was going.
I got to Exmouth and the check in was a nightmare with Receptionist making mistake after mistake in her paperwork. Half an hour later, I dumped my bags and knew I had to get to Turquoise Bay and leave it all behind.
Turquoise Bay is one of the three most beautiful bays in Australia. Who can argue with the rating? Within seconds, the world fell away and I was in the moment.
The Bay itself is serene and great for snorkeling but in the distance, huge waves crashed loud enough for beach goers to look over their shoulders. The waves never seemed to reach the beach. It summed up everything I had been through in the preceding three days.
At my feet I focused on tiny things like this crab. It flew past my feet like a fleeting thought that made me second guess what I had seen. It burrowed itself with incredible speed and I could only see it with the zoom.
In the scrub along the beach were tiny flowers, a burst of colour competing with this magnificent place.
And, tiny sprigs here and there that were exquisite in size and beauty.
As I drove out of the car park I noticed someone had left a shell. A little momento, for others to know they were there.
I drove through the national park when I saw the last rays of light captured in a small tree. At 80 km/hour, I saw it! I pulled up with camera in hand. The detail in the leaves was beautiful. A few minutes later a Kombi van pulled up behind me. Two young European backpackers greeted me. They said they noticed the way I was standing and knew I had seen something worth seeing. They were right.
I’ve returned with hundreds of photographs. This was the end of the first six months of the year. This morning I feel blessed and happy. This was a break I so badly needed. I am grateful for having a receptive spirit that is able to take these moments in instantly. The joy of the moment has taken years of practice, but I got there in the end. It has been worth every step of the journey.
As always
a dawn bird
In response to Word of the Day Challenge – Friday: Vacation
Dingo!
I’m a little late for this prompt but I couldn’t think of a more appropriate word for what I’m about to share.
I’ve just return from Exmouth, some 1200 km north of Perth. It is one of my favourite places to visit and I’ve grown to love it more than I do Broome. There’s just something about the place and the people that is different and very appealing.
It is the first time I’ve seen several signs at the airport and in the national park with warnings to be careful not to feed or interact with the dingoes, an iconic Australian wild dog. The second last morning of my trip, I had to do the airport run, a long straight road of some 38 kms, flanked by scrub and in the distance, ranges. It was early morning so I was careful of wildlife, expecting emu. My eyes scanned the sides of the road constantly and I was ever hopeful, at this hour, I would see the magnificent wedge tailed eagle.
Half way to the airport, I noticed a blond tail flick through tall grass. I knew it wasn’t fox. They slink into the scrub. Was it dingo? Sure not! The tail was high, flicking slowly. This was a hunt! It had to be dingo! At 110 km/hour, it took me a few seconds to slow down and I did a U turn, parked on the side of the road and got my camera. It was my David Attenborough moment.
I have never seen a dingo in the wild. They are usually in a pack and it is best to exercise caution when they are around. This one was alone as far as I could tell and totally focused on being a dingo. I thought best not to distract it and stayed in the car.
What surprised me was the hunting style. It had obviously found a small animal that was burrowed down. The dingo pawed the ground furiously and when the animal escaped, the dingo followed it, jumping high over the grass, all four paws on pointe, cat-like arched back, and stomped on the animal. My fingers fumbled for the video button and I gave up and settled to taking pictures instead.
Animal in mouth, the dingo ate breakfast quickly, still oblivious of my presence a few feet away. 
When another movement caught the eye and a hunt was on again.
The dingo was now alongside my car, still ignoring me.
It found what it was looking for.
It then ran alongside the road, a magnificently healthy animal, with a perfect coat, the colours and shading, took my breath away. The coat was the softest shades of russet and beige, the colours of the bush one sees so often. Despite the contrast of the foliage roadside, when it went deeper into the scrub, it had disappeared from sight effortlessly.
I have seen a dingo twice before, both times in captivity. To see one unexpectedly in the natural environment was a thrill and to see it hunt with such intelligence, is a memory I won’t forget any time soon.
So if you see a dingo in the wild. Sit back and let it be. It is not a dog. The joy is watching the animal be, who and what it is, a wild creature, with amazing hunting skills.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to RPD – Thursday – Ingenuity
Reconciliation
Our lives
like the tread of tides
a pattern of beautiful seams
a dawn bird
A Shared Space 
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