Sand dunes, Pelican Point, Carnarvon
Seduced, I return
time and time again
running my fingers over your pale skin
the attraction, inexplicable
our narrative is linear
you are magnetic
I, a devotee.
In response to RDP Saturday – Charisma
*Given our love for the beach, sandgroper is a nick name for West Australians.
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
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
This is Shell Beach in Western Australia. Given my love for beach combing, I was anticipating paradise. It was.
The beach is 60km long and the coquina shells are about 10m deep. One needs sunglasses here! It is sheer brilliance.
The sea did not look too far away, but it was a deceptively long walk. 
Interestingly, the wind has furrowed long gullies, so one disappears from sight while walking towards the ocean, dipping and surfacing, like a fun ride.
Trillions of shells as far as the eye can see.
And shells within shells.
We reached the water finally. The colours of blue, beautiful.
The sea shimmered like plastic wrap.
On one ridge, I found spring in a bed of shells.
Another item off my bucket list. Well, maybe not off my list completely. I’m going to visit again. The serenity of this beach, was amazing.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
There are some places I visit for work and happy to return to enjoy at leisure, even if time is brief. Exmouth, about 1200 kms north of Perth, is one of them. It has the most beautiful beaches and well known for deep sea fishing, swimming with whale sharks and the Ningaloo Marine Park. For me the charm lies in what others may not see.
Emus rule here. On wide empty streets, they slow you down. They are the traffic jam. The speed bump. I love them! Once at the local school, I even saw one checking out the children’s backpacks that were left outside class!
The sun rises over water here. And, as is true anywhere in the world, each day is always different.
Did I love the vivid colours of one day or the beautiful serene pewter shine, the next? I really cannot say. Both were equally breathtaking.
I love visiting Pebble Beach. The rocks come from the escarpment on the other side. The sea brings them in, and leaves them polished, and smooth. 
For me, these are the pearls of the sea. They are old. Smooth. Tactile. Melded. You feel the story in one’s hand.
This time I visited Jurabi Point Beach.
Was it worth it?
You bet!
Among the pebbles, knowing they are there, I always search for heart shaped stones. Why does the sea shape them so?
This one is for meditation. When adrift rudderless, at sea, it is a reminder. Like the tide, one always returns to shore.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
They say patience is a virtue. In my youth I rebelled against this concept. I wanted it (whatever ‘it’ was), and I wanted it now! I stood at various platforms waiting for the train that never arrived. Yes, in my haste to find it, I missed the journey. (Sounds cliched, and it is intentionally so, because that’s how pedestrian life can be, unless you start to view it differently).
Surviving a major accident in my twenties, I scrambled through therapy to become functional again. Yes, I had to get back to the platform, for that train, thinking it would get me Somewhere.
I am There. That place I yearned for in my youth and find, I often flip back the pages tracking back to Somewhere.
I now know. Somewhere was always Here.
I’m not sure how I got Here. Here, was where I always should have been. How did I get here. Well, let me track the journey.
I woke one day to find …
A snail will climb steadily until it reaches the tree top. It’s all about pace!
Any cut, words or blade, can leave ragged edges.
I’ve found youth (mine!) and wisdom (my children’s!) can co-exist on the same branch of a tree!
Sometimes, you just have to stand still and allow the storm to pass, and it will, if your roots are strong.
I’ve learned the solitary fisherman on the rocks who wets the line at dawn, has done this many times before. He does it for the pleasure, not because he expects a bite.
Likewise the surfer, as he strides out board under arm, to the open sea.
There he’ll sit, with like minded folk, waiting for that set to arrive.
And when it does, he’ll take me with him on that magic carpet ride. 
I found some mornings when the sea is muted, wild dolphins will weave their way through the calm and leave my knees weak with sheer delight of it all.
I’ve found in small mining towns, when there’s not a soul to be seen at midday, even a kangaroo can stop by and crack open a can, to chill with you.
And, if you don’t drink. You can still see double.
In winter, when all else has faded away, a fig is vivid with colour.
A beach is a beach. It does not need a me and a you, to tell a story of romance.
I don’t need to travel to Mallee country. There are times when the ringneck will visit me to check out how I live.
No longer a lead foot. I slow down and enjoy the curves that life throws up at me now and then. I’ve learned those are moments, to see past the obstruction and see the forest, as it is meant to be.
Yes, I found patience. It was always at my feet, in the Here and Now.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
It’s the second last day of summer. Autumn is in the air. There’s a chill in the early morning. My feet need warmth.
I recall the warmth of the sea that encased my feet, not long ago in Jurien Bay.
The morning was tinted in muted colours. The beach, nearly empty.
When the jogger was out of sight, the seagull kept me company
I stepped off the jetty to watch the dolphins play. They enjoyed the limelight.
As if it noticed me, one flipped on it’s back and swam a length, to show off the latest party trick.
The tide was leaving. The sun arrived.
I started to see things that first startled me … a mouse?!
I relaxed. Angel wings, or perhaps a butterfly.
I realised, the pristine sand was just shells, waiting for time, like me.
There was plenty to distract me, like the honeyeater in the scrub.
The cormorant on the pontoon, in the early morning sun.
The pied oystercatcher, with mate.
As the day ended, lovers, like lovers often do, stopped to watch a setting sun slide into the sea.
Like I said in the previous post, yes I’ve travelled the world, but every morning I wake in awe, to find it at my feet.
May you do too.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Years ago a friend introduced me to the work of Theodore Roszak, and a newer, more beautiful world.
Ecopsychology promotes, quite simply, the connection to wider systems that make up life on this planet and beyond. Ancient cultures practiced this as a way of life. As we come to grips with the devastation caused by disconnection and dislocation, it is vital to understand this. Underpinning this, is the yearning for connection.
I set about to find my way through the maze of work-life balance and as I did, my ‘connectedness’ to the world became stronger. I started to understand the meaning of ‘country’ and, with each step, I returned to mine.
Astronomy left me wondrous with the galaxies, planets and comets, but unattainable. So I looked elsewhere and found stars within reach.
I found them in my garden.
Viola! in the strawberry, waiting to fruit.
Among bush tracks.
Against a fence.
In the neighbour’s garden.
In the eyes of the magpie lark, as it picked through the remnants of my breakfast.
In the eyes of a sick dog, who knows she is loved.
In my eyes, when I found the heart I left behind.
And, when I walked among the ‘sea clouds’.
I found my very own Milky Way.
So I took it home, and like a child at Halloween, emptied my pockets of loot.
My astral experiences may be different but if they help you seek yours, our lives have been enriched by sharing this space. Stay starry eyed!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I watched a Pacific Gull fly over the ocean to the shore.
Breakfast, freshly caught, in beak.
He rinsed the creature in the ocean, while those thug-like seagulls surrounded him.
In a flash, it was gone, and I watched a free for all.
The big gull looked on, bemused.
But, managed to get his meal back. This time the seagulls, looked on, silently.
The tide was cruel, and took the creature back to sea. The Pacific Gull looked on forlornly.
it stalked the shore
waited patiently
then turned his back
and flew back to the sea.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I know …
the tide is receding, when I find lines drawn between sand and sea.
they chronicle time
or memoralise life, between the lines.
The sea may leave a sprig of foliage. An oasis, when you least expect it.
Sand from far away places.
Tiny shells, from who knows where.
I catch a glimpse, a fleeting glimpse, of sand in the making.
And, as the tide leaves, I become more conversant with the language of the sea.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
As a child the word encrusted would conjure up imagery of jewels in a crown or perhaps, sequins on a garment. I am still child-like.
The word encrusted now conjures up Nature’s jewellery.
At Cable Beach in beautiful Broome, you’ll find me in an area that has a scatter of rocks. It’s a magic place at sunset when viewed from afar. It is a magical place at dawn.
The rocks covered with barnacles.
And there are sea creatures, just as encrusted.
I always visit this slab of rock. It is jewel like with barnacles.
So enthralled by it for several visits, I failed to see one just beyond, and closer to the sea.
There is life in tiny crevices. The ibis knows this.
So does the heron that walks with intent. While the seagull photo bombs, also with intent.
Above the roar of waves, I can hear the crunch of footsteps on a shell encrusted beach.
And, amid the noise and beach clutter, the tiny sand plover takes a moment to stand still.
Like me.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
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
A Shared Space 
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