Juvenile bearded dragon at termite mound, Midwest outback, Western Australia
We were out in the outback in spring looking at the wildflowers when my travelling companion urged me closer.
I’m not a fan of reptiles! This is as close as I was willing to go! I had to concede, the markings were beautiful.
a dawn bird
In response to Lens Photo Challenge #72 Waiting
Wardandi Boodja, Bunbury Foreshore, Western Australia
In the last couple of years I’ve noticed, along the coast of Western Australia, there has been a focus on making art accessible to the community, and in particular sculpture, one of my favourite art expressions.
I have driven past this sculpture, Wardandi Boodja, on the Bunbury foreshore many times and as many times, photographed it. There is something very powerful about the sense of ‘connectedness’ this sculpture conveys.
The indigenous culture of Australia is one of the oldest in the world and deeply connected to land and sea. The indigenous people regard themselves as custodians of the ecosystem. In all the photographs I have taken, this picture reflects this wisdom in his eyes. It comes alive when a glint of sunshine, visible only if one is lucky enough to see the light, speaks of this. The artists Alex and Nicole Mickle consulted with the indigenous people of this region, who decided they wanted the sculpture to represent all families in the face of an elder custodian. He is not one person, but all. There is power in this statement, alone.
The sculpture is enormous at 5.5 metres high and weighing 4.2 tonnes of steel, yet it has the lightness of being and, despite being placed alongside a children’s playground, the stillness of silence. Most of the children who come here to play are too young to read the poem. And, unfortunately, most adults read their hand held screens these days. If one lifted one’s gaze they would read what the sculpture speaks to:
Sand and water and time move through our fingers;
damp from the sea, the land clings to us –
salty and healing.
Slow down and listen to that whisper in the trees,
slow down.
Listen to the ancestors, bworan moort, keepers of the land
singing to the silvery kwilena
They leap and call. Hear them –
they have come to play,
come to listen.
Swim, koolangka, chase the seagulls, laugh in the clean air.
See, where serpent rivers swirl into brine,
where maali dip long necks in living water.
Step gently here.
The earth is under our skin,
and Wardandi boodja keeps a warm fire burning.
NOTE: Bworan moort: Old people/ancestors; maali: swans; kwilena: dolphins; koolangka: children (original citation found at http://www.brag.org.au)
This is my first contribution to Sculpture Saturday and I’m pleased to share my part of the world with you.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to Sculpture Saturday – Week 7
In bud …
or bloom …
always beautiful, the humble bottlebrush.
Enjoy!
a dawn bird
In response to FOTD
Sand crusted sea weed, Jurien Bay, Western Australia
Alive, under water
swaying like in breeze
caressed they emerge
salty with sea forest
when
tethered to her ankle
an embellished shackle
held him captive, too,
by the sea.
a dawn bird
In response to RDP – Wednesday – Embellish
In open landscape or empty beach I am constantly searching for that one thing that speaks to me and when it does, I settle in to listen.
Jurien Bay, Western Australia
This is the smallest shell I have ever found. To give some perspective, the sand is fine like sugar. The shell is no bigger than a nail from an infant’s pinky finger and, like a gift offered, filled with scooped sand.
If we viewed our lives as such, moments scooped in a tiny shell, would we live our lives differently? Be less afraid? Love more deeply? Take risks in the knowledge an ending is just a beginning elsewhere. Maya Angelou, says this well.
Passing Time (by Maya Angelou)
Your skin like dawn
mine like musk
One paints the beginning
of a certain end.
The other, the end of a
sure beginning.
Worth thinking about …
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Sharing the space, in my garden.
a dawn bird
I work all over this big State of Western Australia, so naturally, this vast land is my neighbourhood as I am rarely home and, I post pictures regularly from wherever my work takes me. It is rare for me to share pictures from my neighbourhood. I have posted these pictures some years ago and the prompt is a good reminder to explore the world closer to home more frequently.
My home adjoins Yellagonga Regional Park, some 1400 hectares of protected land of which nearly half is protected wetlands. This area is four doors down from my home. The land in this area is laden with cultural significance for the regional indigenous people and is part of their Dreaming. I only became aware of this some years ago after a walk through the park with an elder as part of my workplace cultural learning.
I love that this place teems with new life. I recall the sheer delight in discovering the black swan’s cygnet is white.
There are spaces where the Australian shelduck and I can catch our breath.
Ancient gum trees for company.
As I approach this roundabout in spring, I have to be careful about the Wood Ducks that use the pond as a nursery before taking their family across the road to the Lake.
This spring there have been many new families that have arrived over the last six weeks. This year I’ve seen school children stop and take pictures with their phone as they walk home from school. I love watching their discovery through the lens.
This is my little oasis where other birds, too, call home. Glad I could share this with you.
As always
a dawn bird
In response to A Photo A Week Challenge – In the Neighbourhood
Sunset, Exmouth Gulf, Exmouth, Western Australia
When I’m by the sea I often reflect on relationships. Is there such a thing as forever? Or is there more to be enjoyed in those fleeting moments of visitation, like those experienced by the tides’ ebb and flow?
The picture jogged my memory about what Anne Morrow Lindberg wrote …
“When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.
The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread of anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits – islands, surrounded and interrupted by the seas, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.” Anne Morrow Lindberg, Gift from the Sea (www.goodreads.com).
One day I will find someone who understands, fully understands, and embraces this philosophy.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In the dimmed light of the moon
They fanned a flame
to new beginnings, again.
a dawn bird
In response to A Photo A Week Challenge : Atmospheric
Entangled in sheets, white as lies
the frangipani blooms outside
scented, warm and moist
a soul kiss, at first light.
a dawn bird
I visit the Central Wheatbelt area in Western Australia, on a regular basis. Although it is only around 260km, it is around 3-3.5 hour drive East of home for me. The highway is dangerous. It runs east and west, so some drivers are always driving into the sun early morning or at sunset. It is a narrow road, and used by roadtrains and with open farmland on either side, there is always danger of fox and kangaroo as well, at dusk.
But the landscape is stunning at sunset. For years I’ve been trying to get to this region at the right hour to capture it. I often see the sun setting in my rear view mirror and it takes my breath away. This month I timed it almost right.
In a paddock between the small township of Kellerberrin and Merredin a lone tree stands. I have photographed this tree many times and each time, it speaks the same message loud. Against all odds, still standing tall. The message has become my daily mantra.
Between Doodlakine and salt lakes at Baandee Lake I had to stop in near darkness and take this photograph. In the silence, the sky roared in colour, and soon it was dark.
There was a time I did not have the temerity to get out of my car to take photographs on this trip. It is a lonely drive when the trucks have zoomed on. I’m anxious to just get to my accommodation. These pictures are special to me because the landscape, nature, spoke louder than my inner voice of anxiety. I’m glad I listened to it.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to: A Photo a Week Challenge – Open Topic
I’ve just returned from Esperance. It is probably the first trip in dozens that I did not visit magnificent West Beach. There was something in the air at Woody Lake that kept me there, something more than the fact I was on my own at dusk and early morning. I got there early and waited. I’m not sure for what. I just surrendered to the serenity of the moment that lasted two hours this morning.
The kangaroos were too quick to photograph and disappeared into the scrub before I could focus. Soon there was birdsong. Nothing I have heard before. It was a nursery choir with unfamiliar sounds, all tuning up to perfect one day. But not today. Today, the off key cacophony made me smile.
The scrub was filled with little chicks.
Not yet afraid, the Silvereye held on …
To catch this tiny bird at breakfast with an even tinier spider made my day.
It was as curious about me as I was of it. I wandered around for a couple of hours and as I was leaving I spotted something white in the scrub.
A tiny, fluffy grey fantail chick.
With sun beaming at, or was it from, her chest. I was dazzled.
Another juvenile played hide and seek, with several attempts at spreading the tail.
There was another chick
And another, resting after play.
And my first ever glimpse of a juvenile cuckoo.
Where does this delight in birds come from? Perhaps it is this …
As a child I yearned to be free. Free as a bird I would say to my mother who tightened apron strings. Even birds have to conform to the flock she would caution, or they die. I thought I was invincible, as I threw a “Not me!” over my shoulder and out the door.
I believe I knew what I wanted from about the age of six and every step of my life’s journey has been activated, framed, motivated by that one desire. To be free. I’m not sure what I wanted to be free of, but I knew I wanted freedom.
I believe I’ve achieved my childhood dreams. Is it karma?
I have lived a life of freedom and on my terms. Every step I have taken, every decision made, has led me to this point. I have not lived life passively or as an observer. I have lived my life, as intended. And, I’m not done yet.
Karma is not a b*tch. It is not life’s punishment for something bad you may have done, or rewarding you for something you have done right.
Karma is not a backward glance. Karma is filled with hope and is forward thinking. It is an acceptance, at any point of one’s life, one has the ability to change the course of how one lives, if one chooses to do this. It’s taken a long time to come to this realisation. So I start new each day. Yes, life can be that simple for me.
May your steps today lead to good karma.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I know they are not the farmer’s friend and they can cause chaos on country roads at dusk but to me, an unexpected encounter with a wild kangaroo is a delight.
I’m always careful early morning in Foxes Lair, Narrogin, in the south eastern Wheatbelt region of Western Australia. At dusk too, when I drive through. I usually see a kangaroo or even a small mob. This morning I was later than usual and got there around 7 am. The early morning walkers had already gone through the reserve except for one. I often see him with his dog and he’ll say a few polite words.
I inched my car through the narrow pathway heading to the car park when I heard a gentle rustle. A joey!
It hopped in front of the car and then went behind a small shrub, yet so close and within reach. Oh! that look! I melted just like that. 
The joey hopped away, stopped and looked around as if searching 
… this is a quintessential Australian bush scene.
Then I saw mother. I’ve only noticed the third kangaroo (to the left of centre) when I uploaded the pic. They blend in so well with the bush and being shy creatures they can slink away into the scrub very quickly.
All three crossed to the other side of the reserve. As the mother and joey hopped away, the male stood upright, his stance unmistakably, don’t mess with my family. I respected his guard and waited until they were out of sight.
When I could no longer see them, my gaze scanned the ground. Since being in the Murchison, I’m now interested in animal tracks, too. I don’t believe I have ever seen tracks made by a kangaroo tail, before. A first for me!
I’m home overnight and leave again tomorrow. As the year is winding down, I feel a bit fatigued. I know I’m not comfortable in my skin when I feel this way. Besides, today has not been a good day. What a difference 12 hours make. I drove home with roadworks and big farming machinery on the highway slowing my trip only to find a hotel has messed up my booking. I accept people make genuine mistakes. But when one tries to cover up with a lame excuse, that’s something I find hard to accept. I feel I let myself down by losing my cool. I wish I had taken a deep breath. What’s done can’t be undone. I’m expecting to get the worst room in the hotel when I get there!
But for now, I think I’ll just go and indulge in some comfort food … Vegemite on barely warm toast, a slather of butter and a cup of tea. I feel better already!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to RDP – Tuesday – Butter
Scented blue sun orchid, Manea Park, Bunbury, Western Australia
a dawn bird
In response to Cee’s Flower of the Day Challenge – FOTD
More often than not, I wake just before dawn. I make a cup of coffee, open the curtains and wait for shapes to emerge from familiar shadows. I do this wherever I am. No two mornings are alike. That’s the gift of the day. Start anew.
We were travelling in the outback Midwest and spent the night at Mt Magnet, Western Australia. We were tired when we got there after a long hard drive and taking in the acres of wildflowers. It really was overwhelmingly beautiful.
My companion had been to a place called The Granites and wanted to take me there. We rested briefly and went at sunset. It was another world.
The Granites is ancient country of great cultural significance to the Badimia people and among the massive granites, one can find ancient rock art. We didn’t have time to explore as it is mostly unsealed roads without any signage and after a while every turn looks familiar. So with one navigating and one driving we left as it got dark.
I held that moment of arrival in the palm of my hand when we got back to the accommodation. It was still there when I woke early morning. It was dark and raining. Such relief! It was getting warm during the day, even with air con. I stepped outside as quietly as I could on creaking floors and wriggled with delight at the cool air and rain. I knew I needed to be at The Granites. I knew what would emerge from the shadows. I knew I needed to touch base with ‘self’.
As sun broke free of the clouds just past the ridge, what struck me was the absolute silence of this grand place.
I was an audience of one
As Mother Nature unveiled her art
The still life
The paintings
It was a gallery wherever one looked.
In the early light, the granite ridges softened
And tree limbs twisted into intricate lace.
Like I said there was absolute silence. Not a bird call or tweet, not a rustle of goanna, or bounce of kangaroo.
I’m there as I write.
It is possible I brought that moment of arrival back home with me.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to RDP – Saturday – Shadows
A Shared Space 
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