Responding to Tracy’s invitation on Purple Swamphen … here’s my contribution.
It is a rare visit to Big Swamp, Bunbury when I don’t come across one or more purple swamphen. 
Poised on the grassy bank.
Or feeding
The blues shimmer into indigo and purple when they move.
They are usually shy but also protective. Their warning call is a fearsome screech.
This was a rare sighting of a chick this spring.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
The major home renovations are over. The dust is settling and now to the next phase of painting and window treatments, as well as culling old stuff. With this in mind I planned to have December and January off, so my schedule for November is pretty full. But my plans were scuttled. I was asked to do another round of visits in regional areas in December. My knees and heart sagged at the request. With a crowded November and now a busy December, I’m seriously thinking Christmas will have to be on a calendar date of my choice.
Because I visit most of this large State regularly, the thought of going north seemed to be a change as good as a holiday. It is not the best time to be visiting. It was in the low forties (centigrade) in early October. The temperature remains that high this week. The tourist season is over. The good thing is that the prices come down but the hospitality industry slows down too. The Kimberley region will be preparing for the wet season. I’m probably too early for the oppressive ‘build up’ that creates humid conditions, but it will be extremely hot.
Being self employed means I’m constantly working to deadlines dictated by others. A couple of years ago I started to organise my regional visits around the holidays I planned for myself. It seemed to work well and allowed me time to indulge in things that matter most to me. I now value the concept of a short break. I see it as a moment to catch one’s breath.
On the Qantas flight back from Kalgoorlie I read an article on ‘forest bathing’, a nature based therapy practiced originally in Japan and taking off in New York. It really appeals to me and something I have experienced while bush walking, without knowing it was a therapy. I also know there are other ways to engage in a therapeutic experience.
My visit north will not be green. It will be encased in the fine red dust of the Kimberley.
The visit will not be as relaxing as I would like it to be. There will be geckos seeking shelter in my cool hotel room. They will keep me awake. I know this for sure! 
I’m not scared of spiders at all, but I am of reptiles.
And (sensibly) scared of crocodiles.
I expect to encounter all of these during my trip, because of the remoteness of where I’m going. I also know I will still find beautiful meditative moments in the few days I’m there. 
Across the road from my hotel in Kununurra, my first stop, will be Celebrity Tree Park and Lily Creek Lagoon where I walk early morning, camera in hand. I love that this major highway is like a suburban side road.
There will be dragon flies with net wings teaching me to balance.
In groves of ancient boab trees, I’ll find a mother’s embrace, long overdue.
Despite the heat, I’m hoping there are lily filled billabongs, like ones I’ve seen before.
And migratory birds who are still calling the Kimberley home, before they fly.
Will the next few days be an escape from the ordinary? Knowing where I’m going, despite the discomfort of heat and reptiles, I know it will be.
I’ve worked hard for the past few years because of the extra expense of renovations. Having achieved my goals, I’m looking forward to slowing the pace next year. In the mean time, a short break will have to a holiday.
I guess the take home message to myself today is, when limited by choice, make the best of what you’ve got.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
If I were to describe India, it would be the land of festivals. There is always something to celebrate somewhere and despite the diversity, often celebrated by all.
The festival of lights, Diwali, is celebrated by Indians across the world today. It is an important festival celebrated in spring with the hope it brings light, joy, renewal, abundance and wisdom.
I wish my fellow readers a happy Diwali and all that this joyous festival represents. We all have similar hopes and dreams. Our achievements of this may be unique. But, whatever it takes, may it be within reach.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I walk silently, hand in hand with memory
in ancient pastures of golden stubble
Scratch the surface of dust and debris
the itch, unbearable.
The scent of hope fills the air
breathe in, breathe out, my prayer
the rain will come.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
The Gilbert’s dragon is known as the “ta ta” lizard and found in the hot Kimberley region, about 2000 km north of Perth. They run across hot surfaces, pausing to lift one leg off the ground and wave to cool it. before doing the same with the other. When not running and waving, they are still and bask in the sun.
The Welcome Swallows in Bunbury love the sun. In the mornings, they seem to prefer to do this than fly.
Then in Merredin, there’s the Magpie Lark, with the best vantage point in the gum tree to catch first light.
The young Pink Galah does not bask in anyone’s glory but its own as it gazes down at me at home.
There are honeymooners, basking in love, who race to kiss in dawn light, at Entrance Point, Broome.
While this backpacker threw caution to the wind at Wyalup Rocky Point in Bunbury as she watched the sun go down alone.
Much like her I enjoyed my solitude at Cable Beach, Broome.
Where I found, one heart warmed by sunshine, is better than an entwined pair scorched by rue.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
There was a time when life was predictable. Workdays were neatly tucked between Monday and Friday. Weekends were made for leisure and filled the gap before the cycle revved up again.
Not any more!
When I look at my schedule I often find, my weekends can suddenly appear in the middle of the week. I like that! I also know my lifestyle would be frenetic, if I didn’t fully appreciate what these opportunities gift to me.
Although I visit some towns and regions on a regular cycle, I also get the opportunity to travel to places and spaces I’ve never been to before, for example, driving between Carnarvon and Geraldton.
The drive is on a lonely highway. The solitude in magnificent landscape, exhilarating.
We stopped for a few minutes rest to stretch our legs when in the far distance my zoom caught something on the horizon. So we drove towards it.
The memorial astonished us. It was huge. Did it start with just one stone? How did people know it was here?
And nearby a smaller, personalised memorial to loved ones, long passed.
They are honoured with typical Aussie humour with beer cans, a bikini top, garden gnomes, rubber thongs, fishing tackle, and even a camping frypan. We stood for a few minutes in silent respect and walked away, knowing them better.
As we left the area, in this desolate landscape a tree stood frozen. A silent reminder, it once danced in the breeze. So I take the cue.
My lifestyle now teaches me to take time out every single day to be with nature in one way or another, even on the busiest of days. Yesterday I found I practiced this.
My overnight trip to Geraldton where flights were delayed for hours each way and a busy Friday meant I had no time for going out with camera. As I arrived at the airport, I scanned the environment around me. I could have seen cars and trolleys. But no!
I found the wildflowers were still blooming in the fields around the airport.
In a stiff breeze, the flowers rustled. It was music to my ears.
Far from being tired, I’m home, before I quick step again.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Much like cyberspace, early morning in Big Swamp is noisy. It is filled with tweets and squawks.
During my recent trip I found the air was filled with the high pitched squeaks of honeyeaters, the melodic songs of the Willy Wagtails, and the pained cry of the swamp hens as I approached. The musk duck was being chased by another, the paddle speed of webbed feet on water, fast and furious.
I slowed my pace as I approached the boardwalk. It is the intention, that slowing down of body and mind, that brings me here each time.
I know the Welcome Swallows love sitting on the rails, facing the sun. Sometimes they get used to my presence and accommodate my curiosity. I’ve learned to extend the lens only when they look away, as movement is always a signal for flight.
To my surprise I found some Swallows on the ground near my feet. 
Fear set aside, they were busy with nest building, focused on task.
A slight movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention, a fairy blue wren darting and hopping among the foliage. No matter how many times I see them, the flash of blue always makes my heart skip a beat. 
The male wren stood still for a moment. So perfect. It looked like an enamelled ornament, with blues upon blues found in sky and sea.
In contrast, the female’s beauty, is subtle. Perhaps this is nature’s intention.
While the male distracts she tends to her family, almost invisible, among debris.
Distraction is a powerful tool. These tiny little creatures know this instinctively. They use it for survival.
People in power know this too.
As I read today’s news headlines, I wonder …
Do we?
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I once worked for historians. It fostered a curiosity in me. I don’t believe it is depressing or unhealthy that I’m drawn to pioneer cemeteries and memorials. I want to know among the dead, who is in there and sometimes, why. There is so much one can learn from the past.
It may sound ghoulish but it is one of my favourite places to visit when I’m in Geraldton. It sits atop a hill, overlooking the town and the ocean beyond. 
The HMAS Sydney II Memorial is a place of quiet reflection. 
The HMAS Sydney II was lost off the coast of Western Australia in November 1941, taking all 645 lives with it. 
Each silver seagull, a memory. In that space of the dead, they fly free, forever together, in sky and sea.
She turns her back on the Eternal Flame, her frame larger than life, just slightly larger. The wind catches her dress. She holds on to her hat. That’s all she has for now. Her scan of sea, unwavering.
The powerful emotion written across her face, of concern and dare I say hope, is of a woman who has loved and lost.
In the quiet of the night I wonder, have we learnt from history?
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I make it just once a year, and if cajoled, maybe twice. It has not lost its place among the list of ‘must have’ desserts for our Christmas buffet in 30 years.
Made from dried Australian apricots, cream, egg yolks, lemon peel and a dash of Cointreau. It doesn’t need an ice cream maker to keep it smooth and creamy. The rich calorie content takes care of that.
It is, in a word, sublime.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I’ve just returned from Bunbury. If there is no traffic, the drive there is a steady two hours on a straight freeway that becomes a major highway to the South West. Monotonous if one perceives that to be. Not me. I know what awaits me there. 
I got to Bunbury just moments before the sun slipped into the Indian Ocean. A moment of pause for me and others too it would seem.
This morning I was up early and headed to Big Swamp where the bottlebrush is blooming.
Among the reedy grass I caught a glimpse of a swamp hen chick, not yet purple, blue and red.
The Welcome Swallow chick was a delightful ball of fluffy feathers. It is so new, it didn’t know fear of me.
There were chicks every where making a silent call for food.
A young New Holland honeyeater obliged with a moment of stillness.
Then came the Splendid Blue Fairy Wren, in his gorgeous feathers of blue.
After a frantic game of chase, he rested with his mate.
On the other side of the boardwalk, the big cormorant ignored my presence. I’ve not seen this type of cormorant here before. It sat on the branch for the whole of two hours I was there. Probably still there!
I spend a couple of hours here each time I visit Bunbury. Even the regular walkers now know me by face and update me on what’s new in the wetlands.
As the late Duchess of Windsor purportedly said, home is where the heart is, so this morning, home was here.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
The last month has been a roller coaster ride personally and professionally. Perhaps it is the end of a busy year so I’m feeling more vulnerable and tetchy.
Bullying behaviour happens in all walks of life. The time has come to call this behaviour for what it is. My instinct is always to walk away from a bully. They don’t deserve my time nor need to be in my space. But this time, when pushed by a colleague, I pushed back. Uncharacteristic of me and I found, a bully does what bullies do best, they retreat when called out.
Then it was the neighbour who had been trying to contact me regarding the damaged common fence. I was expecting a showdown.
I walked around Foxes Lair one morning and said, ‘Lord, there’s too much on my plate” and after a couple of hours bush walking, although nothing had changed, I returned home feeling spiritually rested.
I caught up with my neighbours. It was the first time I had met them since moving into my home about four years ago. They were perfectly reasonably people! Then I had a phone call from my line manager. I was expecting, at best, a reprimand for being outspoken to someone in a higher position than me. But no, he had called to ask me if I could help someone who was in dire need. During our conversation I brought up, what I perceived to be bullying behaviour, with him and much to my surprise, he agreed with me and invited me to discuss these matters with him sooner rather than later.
Over the years I’ve learnt pilots use the phrase “we are expecting some weather” for turbulence. My instinct is natural, I tighten my seatbelt. So leaving Perth in perfect weather and expecting 30 degrees when I landed in Kalgoorlie, the pilot’s forewarning surprised me. We landed after an uneventful flight. The girl at the hire car counter grinned and said, “how was the flight” and was amazed when I told her it was smooth. She told me a terrific storm had just passed Kalgoorlie and she was sure the flight would have experienced it.
A few minutes later I headed to the hotel, the massive open cut gold mine for my horizon, the backdrop a waterfall of lightening cascading. Rain fell like pebbles. It was still warm at dusk. I had heard about the lightening storms in the Goldfields but have never experienced one before. It was spectacular. We had landed between storms.
My two days in Kalgoorlie are always busy. I did not have time to visit my favourite park. As I left the clinic I realised I hadn’t taken any photographs. I looked up instinctively. 
Gum blossoms.
The flight home was buffeted. I closed my eyes and rewound the previous few days in my mind. I recalled the moment I woke startled around 3 am when a clap of thunder ricocheted around the town, snuggled deeper in bed and realised, there’s something wondrous about watching a storm from the safety of one’s bed. I held on to that imagery until we landed safely in Perth.
I was raised to believe in a higher power that is loving and benevolent. It is not everyone’s way of thinking and I respect that. Equally, I’ve come to respect, what prayer means to me.
When busy I’ve found I have a tendency to slide away from the familiar and when I do, I feel rudderless. I am mindful of this.
This month I recalled something I had read some years ago that was a useful spiritual compass for me. I’ve paraphrased here.
When you don’t feel the presence of God in your life, ask yourself, who moved away?
This reflection always returns me to where I started from.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I’m spending a few minutes reflecting on the past month. I’ve travelled far and wide in the Midwest, the Wheatbelt, the South West and my usual trips to other places too. There was so much I didn’t know about the State, so, although a bit tired, the travelling has been worth it.
I found a sculpture in Kulin, left behind after the last ‘Blazing Swan’ festival. The festival runs to a similar theme to The Burning Man. This was the swan’s egg. How did I not know about this festival! When I returned home, I looked at the website. It looks awesome!
In the Wheatbelt I also watched some birds, like me, work hard to create their nest.
The wildflower season was ending in Mingenew in the Midwest, and although past their prime, some were still sunny side up.
While in other places, there was harmonious diversity in all colours.
I came across details in tiny insects that the naked eye could not see.
I walked along the walking trail high above West Beach in Esperance where teenage surfers start their day and where I like to start mine. They stick together in a pod and have each other’s back. Earlier this year a Great White hung around for hours just 100 metres from shore. Although I watch them with a mother’s eye, I can’t help but admire their youthful dare.
I’ve come across extraordinary, in the ordinary. Reminders for me that any job is ordinary, but how we perceive what we do, takes it to another level.
I examined the wonderful weirdness of Nature closely and found I was wrong, there’s nothing weird about delicate intricacy.
The striking vividness of colour on shrubs stopped me in my tracks.
And also when I caught sight of an errant Running Postman on the ground.
Color in nature can be striking when plain.
Or subtle in varying hues.
There are also some attention seekers saying, ‘look at me’!
And just when I thought I was alone while bush walking, I realised, I had company.
I’ve found a way to generate balance in my day. These moments of mindfulness, usually first thing in the morning, add an extra dimension to my day and what I do for a living.
Over the years I’ve come to the understanding, in those moments of mindfulness, all else falls away.
I’m off today and before the end of the month will have completed three more trips. But tonight in keeping with a balanced life, it will be room service and rubbish TV!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I love fresh flowers. Sadly, with frequent travel it is a luxury I cannot indulge in. I do return home from each trip to a front garden full of roses. They seem to bloom profusely, partly because I have given my neighbours permission to cut as many as they like for themselves. It’s a win-win situation.
Last week a bunch of flowers was also a white flag to irate neighbours who I hadn’t met before and much to their frustration could not contact me when the fence blew down.
When my son was about five, the neighbour who lived across the road from us lost her husband to cancer. My son promptly stated he wanted to give her flowers. I cut some iceberg roses and placed them in a laundry basket as I snipped at the bushes, thinking I’d keep some for myself and do up a bunch for her. No! My son insisted, she was to have all of them. The image of a five year old child staggering across our front yard to her home, laundry basket filled with white iceberg roses, is a precious memory.
My recent memories are embedded in flowers. I’ve found in this State something is always blooming somewhere.
Oh! the irony of living in a happy place and not knowing it!
This morning I walked around in Foxes Lair. There were so many flowers to see and enjoy. It was overwhelming. 
The long view was beautiful. But what was at my feet?
I found this straggly plant, probably a weed. Just green foliage but wait, there was a hint of colour. It is imperceptible even now when I look for it.
I waited for the sunrise and returned to the plant.
I’m not sure if it is a weed or not but it lifted my flagging spirits.
The tea tree flowers were growing everywhere, sprayed here and there, over leaf debris.
Then there was this gorgeous plant. Exquisite.
This enamel orchid took my breath away. I’ve never seen one this tiny.
I looked deep into tiny flowers. Each perfect in creation.
This trigger plant was a stronger pink compared to those that were in the palest pink hues.
A gorgeous succulent.
There were all shades of purple. This one so vivid against grey debris.
I walked around Foxes Lair this morning, listening to the crunch of my boots on dirt and dried leaves, the twittering of birds, the intermittent cacophony of kookaburras, the shower of gum nuts from above.
I know one thing for sure. I can’t wait to return.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I always seem to rush to get to Narrogin in the southern Wheatbelt but each visit something gets in the way and I’m delayed. The aim is always to get there mid afternoon so I have several hours exploring the region especially during spring. My plans have never worked out that way.
This trip I got there just before sunset, too late except for a quick drive through Foxes Lair and do recon for the next day. I woke early and was in the reserve by 6 am. I know the kangaroos are out and about this hour so I drive in very slowly.
I wasn’t disappointed. This mother had a very young joey. They blended into the landscape so beautifully. 
I followed the mother’s gaze and found to the right of me was a huge kangaroo, male I think. I was captivated by his eyes!
Then he loped across the road in front of my car, as if in slow motion and I realised he was old. 
The trio disappeared in seconds into the bush.
I got out of my car to a chorus of kookaburra laughter. They continued chortling as I walked beneath them.
It was not light enough to photograph the flowers, so I spent my time looking upwards. (Mental note, do more of this).
This young parrot just stared right back at me! Port Lincoln parrot, I think.
The redcap parrot chewed away happily, littering gum nuts.
As I was leaving, the robin redbreast made a bold statement.
Leaving the devastation in my garden, I enjoyed these moments of mindfulness.
I left Perth feeling lack lustre and have returned home, renewed.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
My mother believed in the goodness of people. She worked hard to instill this in her children. One of her favourite paraphrases was to remind us even Anne Frank, “that poor girl”, had purported to say there was “a kernel of goodness” in everyone. If we had a gripe about one of our peers, my mother would insist we interact with them to see if the wrong could be put right. Years later I read Michelle Obama urged people, “when they go low, we go higher”. Worlds and generations apart, these women, expressed a sentiment which is identical.
I grew up to be an adult who believed in this. To some extent, I still do. Although I confess, the dissonance I feel has diminished this somewhat.
In the past few weeks I’ve learned one can walk into an embassy and disappear. The thought of this fills me with revulsion and horror. The aftermath, even more so.
I watched in disbelief as a woman’s powerful testimony of her violation can be ridiculed and mocked in exchange for derisive laughter and applause.
I’ve read professionals who have voiced their concerns about refugees and asylum seekers, have had their services, vital services, discontinued.
The mental health, social development and attachment trajectory of children ‘in custody’, is not a priority for those in power.
World leaders may be rich, but they can be bought cheaply.
In my teens and on my own I had assumed everyone I meet “has a kernel of goodness”. I found out not so. I resented my mother’s views on life and people. I thought she had lied to us.
It has taken years to learn how to be discerning, but the default of seeing good first, lets me down more often than not.
This morning I looked at a photograph of a paperbark tree, one of many that overhang the walkway at Big Swamp. I always walk through that area quickly. Although beautiful, it is eerie and like an nightmare from a children’s story book. I did a double take today. That was no monster. It is bark splitting open at the seam, beautifully. It is this revelation that makes it a paperbark tree.
Similarly, there is a certain beauty in the revelation and realisation, my mother was a fabulist. She taught us about morality.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
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