It is ironic, my last trip (most likely) for the year was to Geraldton where on the outskirts, in the hamlet of Greenough, is the graceful and iconic Leaning Tree. I never fail to stop and take a picture of the tree each time I drive past. It is also ironic that I found a picture that was taken on a gloomy day. It should have dampened my spirit, when the world has changed so drastically. Behind each statistic is a person, a family, a community and the reach of this health and economic crisis, is sobering.
The Leaning Tree, Greenough, Western Australia
Like those who work with people face to face, be it in hospitality or hospital etc, our work lives have changed, at least for the foreseeable future. The news from one agency, midway through my trip, was to cease operations as we know it. On the last day of my work in a new agency, we were advised there would be no work until further notice.
After the initial shock of severe financial restrictions, I did what is promoted as a step to maintaining good well being. In times of crisis return to normalcy as soon as one can. I sat in the quiet of my hotel room and made a list of priorities. I usually make a list at night of tasks that I need to tackle the following day but this list was different. I found I needed to take charge.
The first thing I did was to email the bank and accountant to advise them I would not have my usual income this year. The bank representative did her homework before returning my call. She reassured me all was well on that front and they made some allowances that will be helpful should I need it. It was the biggest relief and allowed me to think more clearly about other matters.
I returned to Perth to empty shops. The mad panic seems to have subsided or perhaps people are staying home, which is a good thing. It felt like I was over-shopping and I had to remind myself I usually shop for a day but now I was shopping for a fortnight.
Like the Leaning Tree growth continues when one is bent, but not broken. I’ve found some positives in going back to basics. It’s all about perspective. 
Hotel room art, Geraldton, Western Australia
Being grounded in reality is one thing, but we can paint and re-paint the picture in broader and brighter strokes. Adults can come up with something more abstract and even when broken and distorted, the picture emerges and one finds meaning in it.
The Rainbow Tree, children’s artwork, school in the Midwest, Western Australia
Children, on the other hand, take from what is familiar and make it their own. I experienced a deep sense of joy when I stood in front of this artwork. All those discarded buttons from old clothing, the vision of a rainbow instead of a bent, old tree. The earth coming up to greet it. To me this is a portrait of a celebration. Oh! the eyes and heart of a child!
So I share three pictures with you today of gloomy reality, abstract thinking and of creativity. I know which one I love best! So I’m channeling my inner child.
I’m going back to where comfort is. I read in posts, most of us are doing this too.
I’m enjoying cooking. I’m stewing fruit. I’m making sauces and pastes. My home smells like a home.
My home is being spring cleaned. All those chores that never find a higher priority are being attended to. I am culling and discarding what I don’t use or need.
There is incense burning and with it, brings a presence. Together, we are one.
My faith has never been stronger as I face an unpredictable financial future.
Take care of yourself and each other. Think of others. Offer a kind word to the elderly who seem so worried and alone. Your smile or gesture may make a world of difference to them. Be the difference.
Anxiety negatively impacts the immune system. Keep calm. Calmness can be contagious too.
Look and read the ‘news headlines’ within. That’s where you’ll find a stronger and resilient you.
As always
a dawn bird
In response to RPD – Saturday – Looking Within
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.
Gum blossoms.
I turned off my air con and coughed my way through the next 160 km. When I arrived I could barely speak, my mouth and teeth gritty with dust. The next day I headed further north east. I had another two hours of driving.
I could see the dark clouds build up on the horizon. I tried to beat the rain. It arrived before I could step it up. The rain was like a powerful waterfall. The wipers could not keep up. The road started to flood in places and my car bounced off sheets of water. I could not see a suitable place to stop and park. I was doing between 50-70 km/hour in a 110 km/hr zone. The stress of someone coming up behind me and not seeing me in time was ever present. The only thing I could do was hold my nerve and pray, “keep me safe”. 
I got to a tiny hamlet called Latham when the sun broke through and it felt like I was on another planet. The birds came out tweeting. The wedge tailed eagle. Pink Galahs. Tiny honeyeaters. And, I even saw a Maleefowl saunter back into the bush. The difference in the weather was unbelievable.
Another day of criss crossing towns and then I was finally on my journey home. This time I indulged in a little rubber necking. There was no one else on the road for one stretch of 51 kms, so I stopped and took this picture. One of the most meditative drives I’ve had in a while.
I watched dawn break and fretted about the clouds. The small plane would have to punch through these, the thought making me feel sicker than I had been.
As the sun broke through, I saw a line of birds above.
On one side were the Cape Barren Geese, large, ungainly birds on ground, but graceful in flight.
Dozens on ibis, untidy in formation, also headed somewhere else. (I obviously need more practice with my new camera!).
Far across the Lake, on my right, was a flotilla of pelicans, dozens of them. On my left, a solitary white heron, posture perfect, even when alone.
Thinking that was my quota for the day, I started to drive out of the reserve slowly when I saw it, sitting all plumped up, large as a hen, a common bronze wing pigeon.
Preening, pretty as a peacock, in an unguarded moment, challenging the notion of “common”.
Near my car, a silver eye feeding. Usually they swarm in small groups but this one was alone.
Eye to eye. For a moment, it was heaven, right here on earth.
I’ve lived for over 25 years in my neighbourhood and had never stopped to watch a white heron in flight. I do now.
I never realised, the beige of the Wheatbelt is beautiful at dawn. I do now.
Who knew a front garden filled with roses, is a welcome like no other. I do now.
Sunlight warms the whitest iceberg. I do now.
In a forest, the trees are not green, it is the leaves that make it vivid. I do now.
Previously my hiking boots stomped on leaves and stones, ignoring the fallen one, tortoise shelled by age and sun. My steps are now lighter. I do now.
My curiosity was blunted. I never stopped to wonder why. I do now.
I didn’t know, the Black Swan raises cygnets, as white as snow. I do now.
And, when I’m not home, snowdrops bloom at the front door. I do now.
I didn’t know life was meant to be lived, eye to eye. I do now.
I parked my car in the driveway and found the pink roses looked fatigued too. 
Strewn with rose petals, my front garden looked like a wedding had taken place.
While climbing roses on the arbor, reluctant to let summer go, clung on. There are ‘pockets’ of garden around my property. A legacy of the previous owner, a florist. It is a delight! Something seems to be blooming somewhere, making it always a garden. Being home so infrequently and for short visits, I enjoy looking around to see what lies in wait. I’m never disappointed.
No muted shades for this little one in the side garden. Reflecting the vividness of sunset.
And, there were others, still beautiful, before they fade away.
The geraniums always bloom. 
They are a welcome splash of colour in winter.
This shrub is covered in spokes of purple blooms.
Over the years, my faith has grown stronger but my church no longer has walls.
But, I seek the one that stands apart. The one that sets the stage for me.
There are times my wings are tattered and I can barely hold on. These are not challenging times. They are just reminders, at times like this, faith renews my wings.
And it does.
A Shared Space 
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