I was a different person in early childhood, yet in many ways, I remain the same.
I listened. I observed. I must have done it well. Friends and family know me for my silence and invisibility. Not finding a place under their sun of accomplishments, I searched and found my own. So I share this space with you on what life has taught me.
Driving through the Midwest, I realised, why settle for a bunch of flowers when I can have a paddock. 
I’m always amazed to find pink in tough, mining towns. On reflection, given the volatility of the industry and profession, perhaps it is Nature’s way to symbolize hope. 
Every time I return from a trip, a neglected garden reminds me, it will continue to bloom, with or without my presence. A helpful reminder for ego, so I take notes.
There are no words to describe finding one’s first enamel orchid along a bush track but I’ll try. They look shiny and plastic. The crick in the neck from the double take was worth it! They are breathtakingly beautiful.
Likewise discovering that shaggy bush in Esperance, turns into a gorgeous waterfall acacia came as a surprise like no other one spring.
If one summons enough courage to visit Lesueur National Park early mornings, when there is no one else there but Nature, the drawcard is easy to see.
I found ‘kebabs’ of flowers there, too, so the gnawing hunger pangs make me return again and again.
Pom poms along bush tracks brings out the inner cheerleader, I never knew resided in me.
There’s infinite joy when a small bird allows you to keep it company.
In a still moment, unadorned simplicity, is where Nature does it best.
There’s a certain beauty to waiting before bloom. (I wish I knew this in my youth).
Rice crackers are found on the beach, if you look for them hungrily.
The sand dunes are not an obstruction between me and the ocean.
They are made from tiny shells and quartz. Each piece infinitesimal and exquisite.
A pesky weed is beautiful too.
These are things I didn’t know then, but do now. The thought makes me blush with shame.
So look past my ignorance.
I’ll be back once I’ve found focus and share life, as I know it, through my lens again.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
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.
I was in the outback, far north, staying at a cattle station just before the mustering began.
Standing by the corral at dawn, I didn’t notice him while he worked, so entranced was I, by it all. 
But when he stood patiently waiting for toast to turn brown, sipping billy tea from a tin mug, “g’day” escaping from the corner of his mouth, he caught my eye. 
He had an aura. It was how he worked the horses, that made him unique.
He sat down slowly, as if in pain, guitar cradled in his lap, a beer clenched in a calloused fist. His feet were bare, untouched by the sun they glowed infant pink. His arms were also bare, nut brown and muscled from reining in, a black bandana around his head, adding colour. He took a thirsty swig, leaned over and placed the bottle on the grass in the space that separated us.
He travels the world, searching for the horse that no one can ride. For him, life and love, is that simple.
In autumn, the Mallee gum trees are frosted with blossoms.
I’ve come to learn, the Australian Ringneck parrots, love these gum trees too. I follow the scatter of gum flowers from one trail to another. 
There are boughs of flowers, and sometimes, even a neat posy.
And the ones that are past their prime, are still beautiful.
Sometimes, just a hint of colour in the scrub.
Delicate buds, waiting to bloom.
The Prickly Dryandra is favoured by the smaller birds, who appear after the parrots have left.
But not this time. They were sitting on the tree branches, highly visible to the eye.
This one took my breath away.
And this one did the same.
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.
There are no roadblocks in life. Just many opportunities to restart.
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.
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 
You must be logged in to post a comment.