Focused on getting to my destination in failing light and blinding rain I failed to see the world around me. How often do we do this? I know I did this more than I should have in the past two days. Had I not reminded myself to live more mindfully, I would have missed a lot more.
It is officially spring in the Southern Hemisphere, in two days. There’s so much to look forward to especially after I discovered the joys of wildflowers. How did I live in ‘The Wildflower State’ for decades and not notice the beauty that recurs each year, unfailingly?
The ebb and flow of Nature’s oeuvre, is to be enjoyed moment to moment and not season to season. I have learnt to put brakes on, slow down and live in the here and now. Foxes Lair has taught me, flowers bloom, when it is their time. 
Fifty kilometers from town, I noticed the sun was setting to my left and a huge moon rose from behind a grove of trees on my right. Startled by the silent luminosity, I had to stop to take a picture. The presence of it in the sky calmed my spirit. There was benevolence in the light. The only motorist on the road, I slowed down, no longer alone in poor weather.
Next morning I walked around the reserve. I’m usually alone here so I claim this as mine each time I visit! Winter has left it lush with bright yellow daubes of acacia everywhere.
A closer look at the spikes of flowers is worth the moment of quiet.
I stood in a ‘forest’ of banksia. These ones are quite different to anything I’ve seen elsewhere.
They are a beautiful tumeric colour with the tip, dipped in white. A ‘ta da’ moment comes to mind!
I’ve learned to look at my footsteps. No longer afraid of snakes (although I’m still snake aware), I’ve learnt to read the footprints of others. Parrots! So I look up.
This must have been a young one trying his best to make ‘parrot calls’, and not quite getting there. Yet!
The clumps of hibbertia are everywhere. They are bright in debris that gathers at the base of the gum trees.
I love this hakea that grows like giant kebabs with flowers blooming intermittently between spiky, sharp leaves.
I’m time poor today and will try and complete this before I head out again.
Until then
As always
a dawn bird
On a beach that stretches for 22 kms, I peered through tiny coral windows and found life in minutae is what has added zest to my journey.
I contemplated the fragility of life and the glue that holds it all together.
I reflected on the foundations and layers we create within us, between us and for each other. Do they support or divide?
I found things that spoke to me. Much like life, debris was once perfect and whole and …
still exquisitely beautiful.
We are given life. But … it is a finite serve.
I paused to reflect. What’s my footprint, my legacy, that I leave on shore?
The glory of sunset at Cable Beach is seductive. It is promoted as such and people come to catch their breath.
But I also know the young boab tree at Town Beach, the opposite side of town at Roebuck Bay, is magnificent at sunrise. So in Broome I catch my breath, at least twice a day.
I went where I had lunch one afternoon. There’s a cafe to the right of this with beautiful views over water. But no, I wanted to be in the scrub! To my delight the place was teeming with birds. I know them well enough by the call.
I found a tiny male zebra finch with wisdom in his eyes.
Then there was the female finch. She flew up, caught the blade of grass in her beak and slid down, showering grass seeds on the ground. She then fed in privacy in the tall grass. Clever!
Ever watchful, high in thick scrub, were a pair of rainbow bee eaters. Aloof, silent, predatory.
The yellow honey eaters, feasted on flowers, their maniacal laughter-like call, harsh, for such a pretty bird.
With ‘lipsticked lips’ pursed tightly shut, the Pacific Gull was dignified in defeat as silver sea gulls stole lunch and flew away screeching. 
The Brahminy kite (I think), from the highest vantage point, watched all, then flew away silently.
I watched the sun rise beyond my favourite seat on the Bay. 
As day broke, I noticed the few days of storm surge had muddied the Bay, but did not steal the beauty. 
Although I love this sculpture, I’m always disappointed, someone did not have the foresight to position this in a better place. No matter which way you photograph it, there is always something that should not be in the background. Beauty, misplaced.
But not at Woody Lake. I found a wild clematis (I think) vine starting its journey across shrubs. Yes, spring!
And among the grass, scores of tiny yellow rumped thornbill, too quick, except for one.
A musk duck trying to look cool while expelling a blast of bubbles when attempting to attract a mate!
Perth Airport, just before I flew out the other day. 
I’ve come to know the Midwest is gorgeous in winter. This hill is on approach to Geraldton.
If you wake early enough, you’ll find frost on desert flowers in the mining region.
And when I return home, it’s time to stop and smell the roses.
I found a cluster of bell-like gum nuts at my feet. Although they will not bloom like other similar blossoms, their beauty is more accessible, close up. This is how it is meant to be, for some.
I look for solitary things in nature. Things that should belong together, but somehow fall away. Their beauty is undiminished, in isolation. For some, it takes effort to believe in this but when they do, the rewards are endless.
I prefer not to touch an object before I photograph it. I feel I need to respect the space where the object has come to rest. It was there for a reason. Things happen for a reason. It is something I’ve come to respect about life, too.
During this walk, I followed a trail of clover. It was a delicate wreath that wound itself around a massive rock. The dichotomy of strength and fragility, written in simple lines. And, yes, they can co-exist, each not detracting beauty from the other.
I know now, even green leaves fall away and come to rest until they disintegrate in the wind. This is their journey, not mine. The moment shared was finite. So is life.
Some are plain, beige, but sparkle best, when it rains. I’ve come to learn some people rise to their adversity, and can land softly, among rocks.
Some fade with a kaleidoscope explosion of colour. The message is clear. I was here once.
While others, are golden, among green. They signal season. A time for everything, and everything, in time.
I woke this morning in cold and frosty Narrogin. It was a challenge to get out of bed but I could not help but feel so blessed.
The sunrise was magnificent over the township. Snuggled deep under covers, I felt I was the only one watching the sun emerge.
I stayed warm in bed, until past sunrise. I knew it was too cold, even for birds.
I then set off to Foxes Lair, took a deep breath while taking off my sunglasses and settled down to the big experience of the ‘here and now’.
I was there with the usual early morning company.
It was interesting to see the change of seasons reflected in nature. The bush is just starting to burst into colour, with striking fronds of flowers.
A little pink, too, here and there.
And, tiny flowers of ground cover.
The dryandra, beautiful but prickly, everywhere.
The honey eaters love this plant. Bees, too, but they were not buzzing today. Perhaps, too cold this morning for them.
The kookaburra emerged from a hole in the tree. It started to chortle. It sounded like a kettle coming up to the boil, before it reached the crescendo that is so typical of its call.
And when it stopped, it looked straight down at me!
Curiosity
The gull stood still and watched the tide come in. From the road above, I did the same.
Then the gull then strode out purposefully to meet it.
It seemed to know where to stop. 
It stood still and waited.
The tide came in with bounty. The Pacific Gull knew this. This was time honoured instinct. Honed and practiced. No technology to guide it. It was a beautiful thing to observe. A moment of mind-body connection, for gull, and me.
This is Esperance Bay at first light. The winter sun rises further left in the Eastern sky. It spreads the softest light, before it rises. Some people do this in life too.
My favourite spot to have my first coffee of the day is the end of the groyne. Sometimes the dolphins visit to keep company. 
I then head to West Beach to catch the glow of sunrise in the softest pinks, blues and greys.
If I meet my target for the day, I know I’ll find these folks too. Nothing keeps them from catching a set, except maybe a shark warning. Yes, maybe.
Surfers seem to sense the potential in an opportunity and go for it even if it is a short ride. They may not know this or see it as such, but each decision they make is a goal. Enjoy the ride.
And Woody Lake is where I sit and consolidate my day. The solitude gives me vantage point. It is where everything comes together in a moment of quiet. My vision, enhanced with clarity.
I watched sunrise from bed. The sun appeared, a bleary eye, and then disappeared, like the town beneath it in the distance. Oh! well! I better pack and try and head off home cautiously, I thought. I did just that.
I got out of my car to all that I wanted in that moment.
I found colour and life.
Refreshed by rain, the greens and greys of the bush were vivid. I was greedy and gulped the pristine air.
On prostrate scrub there were splashes of white, pale pink and peach.
At the cusp of winter, a hint of spring.
It’s difficult to see but this track sparkled like a carpet of a million diamonds. I’ve never seen anything quite like it!
I took it all in. What falls away, makes it autumn. Then comes spring. So in life, too.
Deep in thought I was startled by a rustle behind me. I turned around and caught this mother kangaroo in mid hop.
She led her joey to feeding. I was transfixed.
The joey was curious about me.
Oh! those eyes and beautiful velvet ears!
The red breasted robin hopped around me, then perched on a branch for a perfect picture.
While Mrs red breasted robin watched his vanity.
The snowdrops in my garden first appear in August. The anniversary of my father’s passing. Far from saddening me, the flower, like memories of him, delights the heart.
My father was my David Attenborough. He showed me the wonders of the world in words and books. Through his eyes I see softness in ranges and know Nature’s hand can shape and smooth the most difficult terrain.
Jostled in the air, I have learnt to focus on the sun ray bursting through a storm.
I know no fear travelling in desolate outback. I’ve come to learn, there is beauty in the barren. There is peace in void.
My steps are measured and mindful because I know there’s more to experience in the journey between A to Z.
The humble ground cover roadside in Bunbury that glowed like a star.
The beauty of water lilies in a billabong in the Kimberley. I will return.
The solitude of sunrise at Esperance Bay.
I found this banksia in Esperance when I went for a walk one evening. It was getting dark so I did not take my camera. I was deep in thought trying to process an eventful day. Then I saw it, candle like, low in the scrub. I kept walking but somehow felt drawn to it. Unusual because they bloom everywhere. Compelled, I returned to it. I leaned into it with my phone.
My eyes lit up. I saw perfection.
There’s nothing like a sunset across the water here. I caught a brief glimpse, just a memory of what I know to be here.
The colours then muted down as it darkened.
Then there was night sky.
As the light faded I found a wader perched on a rock, like me, watching the schools of fish, some that jump out of the water with a splash. River mullet, I’m told. I’ve seen them dance upright across the surface of the water, flapping madly.
The fish were too quick and perhaps, the school too big, so the wader had to be content among the molluscs. It was as still and silent, as me.
One last pic before nightfall, and I’m happy, satiated even, with the few moments I had with my camera.
A Shared Space 
You must be logged in to post a comment.