The last month of winter in the Southern Hemisphere arrived with torrential rain, hail, high winds and even rare snow flurries in some parts of Western Australia.
Today, thunder rolled above my roof and lightning flashed bright across grey skies. From my kitchen window I watched the doves seek shelter under the jasmine bushes, and as I wrapped my arms around myself and sought the warmth of my skin, I felt as cold as they looked.
After a whirlwind of back to back trips since October last year, I’m finally home for ten days, so I do admit, despite the bleak skies and cold, I’m enjoying being held captive at home by the rain.
I was in the Goldfields a couple of weeks ago. I have never experienced cold like I did during the trip but there were definitely some beautiful moments.
Sunrise, Kalgoorlie, Western Australia Sunrise from my hotel room is always glorious. There’s gold in those ranges with the Super Pit gold mine just under those skies in the distance.
Rainbow in Kalgoorlie Double rainbows were the norm most days and a treat to observe. I believe rainbows are the dolphins of the sky. It is impossible not to feel joy when you see one rise and arc across the horizon.
Back Beach, Bunbury, Western Australia
As the seasons change, so are my priorities.
I am slowly winding back my business and keeping only that which brings me joy. It is a guilty regret when I have reflected seasons have come and gone in the past 12 months and I have barely had time to pick up my camera. I had nearly forgotten what joy photography brings into my life.
Until the other day when I was rushing out of the rain and stopped in my tracks.
Despite high winds, in a recently pruned barren garden, a tiny rose leaf lay still, cradling even tinier jewel-like raindrops.
As I battle my way through this brutal winter, I close my eyes during bumpy flights, and count down the days to spring.
I woke this morning before light, cupped a warm mug of coffee in my hands and let a soft shiver run through my body, thinking autumn is here. As I sipped my coffee I reflected on what Easter means to me. It has been years since I last attended Mass but my faith grows stronger each day.
Easter, without all the religious rituals, has a different meaning for me. As Easter Sunday approaches I am filled with anticipation as the day brings the realisation, all things are new (born) again. It is a feeling of hope, of determination to make changes, and feel emotionally lighter.
When the sun rose higher, I washed my mug as I watched the hydrangea plants in the garden bed outside the kitchen window. I love hydrangeas! My friend planted them outside the kitchen window so I had something beautiful to look at when they bloomed. They were planted in summer when I got the plants half price in Bunbury when my favourite plant nursery closed their doors but because I had been away for weeks on end, one plant in particular looked like it didn’t make it. I had noticed in the days before Easter as the sun moved across the home, there was just a small triangle of fierce sunlight that hit one plant directly. It was not surprising the plant shed the lovely green leaves and looked ready to be tossed into the bin but I didn’t have the heart to do this.
This morning I walked toward the brown plant, determined to yank it out and put it in the bin. When I looked closer, I found the plant was still alive! It was my Easter gift!
May you, too, see growth in the impossible and improbable.
Hello again! It’s been months and I have been travelling without camera in hand. Who would have thought winding up part of my business would mean I would be busier but there is light at the end of the tunnel. By August, I should have reduced my workload. Although I enjoy all aspects of my work, I’m keeping only what I thoroughly enjoy doing.
On the morning the picture was taken I forced myself to visit Woody Lake just for a moment. It invigorated me. It was calm, serene and the sky was stunning. There was a lone white egret. And me. And silence. A moment so beautiful, I had to return to my blog and share.
It would appear being preoccupied with trimming my business, I forgot to keep in touch with what I value the most … those moments in and with nature. Perhaps, this is the return I needed … to self.
I’ve found in a changing world, one needs to find an anchor within self. Those moments of stillness where awareness is heightened. And, where better to find this stillness than in a landscape where there are no news headlines, no advertisements, no external pollution to thought and choice.
Whenever I visit the parking lot in the small main shopping area of Exmouth, Western Australia, it makes it smile remembering Joni Mitchell’s lyrics in Big Yellow Taxi … “they paved paradise and put up a parking lot”.
Why?
Because someone had the foresight to make an ordinary concreted place, beautiful.
Along with frangipani, these seem to be the only flowering trees in an otherwise dry, hot, remote town and boy, do they make a statement!
Happy New Year and may the coming months gift you all that is good.
The year started like every other year. I was expecting life to set the bar no higher or lower than it has, over the past decade. I hurtled towards the familiar landscapes I’ve travelled across so frequently. I thought I had it all. Unknown to me, the Universe had other ideas.
First a family member became gravely ill and spent two months in intensive care. They have now recovered to a life that they had before illness. That, itself, is a miracle.
Reeling from this distress, I lost two-thirds of my business due to the vagaries that prevail in my field of work. I curled up into a ball …. for one night …. and, entirely unsolicited, was offered an even better and more lucrative contract the very next day. So the last few months have been hectic and kept me away from the blog as I wind up some of my work allowing me to focus on the contract I’m enjoying. To say I wake with a smile each morning is an understatement. I am in a happy space as I know within each loss, is a hidden unexpected gain.
Some of my regular work in the Goldfields continues. My hotel is in the middle of town and I, coffee in hand, never tire of the vista of beautiful old architecture each month.
I found this year a thunderstorm in the Goldfields is worth experiencing. It is all flash, thunderous noise and torrential warm rain. Quite breathtaking!
There was gold in other places too. I managed a trip to Narrogin in spring and found clumps of hibbertia hemignosta everywhere in Foxes Lair.
Then there was that amazing trip to Kalbarri in the north, where a few moments felt like a golden hour.
Flying over the pink lake of Port Gregory in the north on the way to Carnarvon, a destination I never reached but did experience three failed attempts of the small plane trying to land in poor weather, before returning home again. I have no memory of the journey home!
Flying over Shark Bay is always a treat! What’s not to love looking at this view on my way to work. It’s better than sitting in grid locked city traffic!
I spent a weekend in Margaret River without WIFI. The lack of intrusion from the outside world felt like another era in time. I have no idea what these flowers are but they were growing in huge bunches on tall trees. The birds loved them!
In spring Foxes Lair put up the usual show of wild flowers. I thought this jug orchid, drenched in morning dew, was gorgeous.
As were the tiny wild donkey orchids.
I’ve driven to Esperance three times in 12 years. It is a long drive of several hours. I tend to sleep overnight in Narrogin as the roads to Esperance are long and lonely. Fatigue is a dangerous companion. This place is a favourite stop in Ravensthorpe, a small town where this tiny shop does a roaring trade from tourists passing by. It sells all kinds of lollies (candy), ice creams, milk shakes and, of course, hot dogs. I love the Motown music she plays on repeat and it is the only place I buy a hot dog because it just seems the right place to eat one!
This tiny Mexican restaurant is in the north. It was several kms out of the town I was staying and there were no street lights on the way there. Ordinarily I would have returned back to the hotel as I had no idea where I was headed in the dark, but, much like falling in love, found it was worth the journey.
We have had a few days of fierce bushfires in the north, the smoke muting the sun during the day. I went outdoors at dusk to bring in the laundry and found this spectacular double rainbow over my backyard.
Although it has been a year of endings and beginnings, it is also a year when I have been scared out of my wits during flights and it is helping me to rethink some of my travel. Landing in Perth in a big plane from a mining town, I braced myself by holding on to the seat in front expecting the jarring of the tyres on tarmac when suddenly we were scooped up into the air again. There was no announcement, just silence while the plane circled for close to half an hour, over the ocean. People were murmuring waiting to hear the pilot speak and it seemed forever when he announced due to wind shear he could not land. Of all that I have experienced, that is one experience I rather not have again.
So what have I learned this year?
I’ve learnt to trust and it has strengthened my faith, not by doing more, but doing less. I’ve actively practiced acceptance and detachment in my everyday life (I had no other option, but to). And by doing so, found a new lease on life and an enormous sense of peace. Each day I make a concerted attempt at decluttering my life and environment. It is no longer a chore but something I look forward to every day. I buy only what I need. I only keep what I use. I honour the space I live in. I honour the space where my thoughts are kept. I honour the life I have been given.
I’ve arrived at this space because I found Nature is a healer and a teacher. We need to honour that.
So my wish for you is a simple one. Let Nature nurture your spirit. It is more powerful and richer, than any human headline.
The Willie Wagtail has the sweetest call but when agitated, the chitter chatter is intense and no mistaking the mood. It makes its presence known in one way or the other. So it is not surprising, in some indigenous cultures, the Willie Wagtail is considered to eavesdrop and if one talks ill of those who have passed, the Willie Wagtail will pass on the gossip to them. It is an interesting concept because where there are people, the fearless tiny dynamite of a bird, is omnipresent and a powerful deterrent for those who believe in the symbolism of this bird.
We have all come across people like this in the work place. Those who come across as colleagues but when there is a restructure, the workplace becomes messy and with those most vulnerable to losing their position, being closest to the ear of management.
Being sick for several weeks with a lingering low grade chest infection I’ve been home for a few weeks and with time to reflect leisurely in the mornings. My reflections took me back to two significant office place scenarios and I recalled them, initially, with some sadness and then a feeling of elation.
I lost my position (but not job) when newly single. With two little children in childcare, it meant two hours of my day wasted in travel, extra expense for petrol and longer hours in childcare against a background of lowered salary. It was a nightmare time of stress and multiple demands and the lady who did not have children got a job closer to her home. It all seemed so unfair. But looking back, had that not happened, I would be working in an administrative job, nine to five, and wondering was there more to life. That scenario propelled me into higher studies and a significant career change.
The second was a job I had for over a decade. I woke each morning with a sense of adventure and looked forward to each day. Apparently, I lost it to a technicality and without a doubt, the whispering of a colleague in management’s ear. I didn’t get time to regret it because the very next day I got a better paying job with conditions beyond what I had hoped for. I would never had thought of accepting this job because why go to the unknown if you are happy doing what you were doing.
Yesterday was the first day I felt well and I realised how happy I am, where I am in life, and largely due to people who thought they got a better deal. Little do they know!
During my morning reflection it occurred to me, blessings in life come in disguise. So, I thought I’d whisper this in your ear.
Between sky and sea you’ll find me flying independently a symbol of individuality in a flock I am the one head up glassy-eyed, with clarity to no one I belong no one belongs to me but, in the sky, I am one with all I see exotic bird, I am not yet, some see beauty in my simplicity.
My mother would often say about other women, “Oh! she is so photogenic!” meaning, whoever she was referring to, was beautiful. I wonder how she would define beauty now in a world of pouting selfies, filters etc.
Growing up in a family where my mother was considered to be beautiful by all who met her, as was my older sister, that bar was set too high for me. I chose my own path and from a very young age, found beauty in words, lay on my back to watch clouds above, stared at a full moon in awe, watched waves lap the shore, and was curious about the behaviour of birds. When the family chattered excitedly on the annual summer trip by train to the coast, I watched the landscape. I didn’t know it then as I do now. I loved being immersed in what nature offered. The child in me, remains alive and well.
So it is not surprising if given a choice of being in nature with camera, or beauty salon … the decision making is easy for me.
Now, not all would consider this tiny Triops australiensis to be beautiful. I do. I’ve shared another picture of this creature in a different post but, I love the Betty Boop face in this one!
Triops australiensis – Found in a billabong, outback, Western Australia
We find, see and define beauty in so many subjective ways. I’m an amateur with camera and know very little about manipulating and editing pictures. And to be honest, I don’t have the time nor inclination to learn any more than I know. What I know is this … if I have a visceral response to something I see, I take a picture. What I see, is what you get. I like the authenticity of this.
So it doesn’t come as any surprise, one of my favourite quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald hangs in my home. I regard the words a personal message to me from the child I was, to the woman I became.
“She was beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.”
I often wonder, would my late mother see me through this lens?
I love the colour green in nature, especially in the outback where the land is drought red and the sun unrelenting. It is a small green explosion of the celebration of life.
It reminds me, the smallest plant is resilient, if it is planted where it is meant to grow. Much like us.
It was around mid-year last year. As the financial year was winding up I was busier than usual. The hotel I stay at in one town messes up the booking each month and I was not looking forward to the trip. After staying in seven hotels in a month, and on three occasions at this particular hotel, I arrived at Reception hoping there would not be an issue. But, yes, they messed up again and blamed the computer. I haven’t stayed there since.
The next trip was exactly what I needed. Although my colleague and I have travelled a lot in this region, especially before the pandemic, this was unfamiliar country and we were open to a new challenge.
The logistics of visiting the community was daunting and required some careful planning but we were up for it!
Occasionally we would encounter traffic, the kind that makes you stop but unlike in the city where I’m frustrated and impatient at traffic lights, these are minutes to scan the sky for wedge tail eagles or wildlife in the bush.
Driving through towns with no midday peak hour traffic, is my kind of town!
Soon we were sharing roads less travelled, laughing and coughing our way through the dust.
We left civilisation behind and turned off-road with nothing but written directions to guide us. We could hardly contain our excitement and chattered incessantly, partly nervous about the unknown, and partly the sheer excitement of where we were headed.
The drive was long and we stopped along the way to stretch our legs. This arid region had received some rainfall and we knew the combination of unseasonable heat and rain meant wildflowers would arrive early.
There were patches of these succulents for kilometres by the side of the unsealed roads.
Tiny clumps of perfection.
And fields of gleaming white everlastings, crisp to the touch.
We finally arrived at our accommodation, a sheep station, the only place we could stay that was a central point to where we were going to work for a few days.
Being mid-winter, the nights were clear and cold. I stood alone on the back verandah and counted my blessings, my smile mirrored in the moon.
Mornings were filled with the raucous calls of the pink galahs that festooned the trees and from waking chickens that provided breakfast.
If it was cold outdoors, it certainly wasn’t indoors. There were roaring fires and hospitality to warm one’s heart. The salads and vegetables straight from the kitchen garden and protein from the station. I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed meals as much as I did here. Although there were just five of us at the dinner table (including the hosts), I felt I had been transported to another time where one talked, shared experiences, and being wifi free, enjoyed the meal without the constant glancing at the phone, as people do in the city.
Although the homestead is old and the only residential building designed in 1916 by Monsignor John Hawes (more about him in another post), the new bathrooms were adjacent to the bedrooms and across the back verandah. Just before leaving the homestead I ducked into the ladies before a long drive ahead when ….
I noticed this! Thinking this was a deterrent to encourage correct recycling, the owner laughed and stated, nope! They have snakes that come on the verandah and being wildlife they are not allowed to kill them, so they collect them and drop them off a few kilometres away from the homestead.
In a span of three days I had gone from standing at a Reception desk being thoroughly annoyed at check in, to being transported to another world. I know which one I prefer!
I reflected today if I was granted a wish, what would it be? There is only one thing I would want. It is time. And it cannot be bought, but one is richer when one realises this.
Found in a billabong, somewhere in the Midwest outback, Western Australia
It was a hot drive of several hours in the outback but rain had preceded our trip, so there were large billabongs along the way. We stopped at one to stretch our legs because my colleague had not seen so much water in these parts before. Knowing my love for photographing birds, she was convinced there would be waterbirds there. We parked the 4WD and walked across a deserted highway to the other side and with our boots squelching in mousse like mud we carefully walked along the edge of the billabong.
My steps were slower. I savoured the stillness. The silence. I was lost in reverie. The outback does that to me.
My colleague is a curious soul. She has a sharp eye for detail and sees things invisible to me. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard her call out in delight, “Oh! Loooook!”. This time she added, “What is it?!”
On our drive back, whenever we got some coverage, we would try and google what we found. The best we could find this is a species of Triops. If you view the image by expanding it, you’ll see how perfect a creature this is!
A few months ago I spent a week in Bali. My first visit in forty years. I went overseas filled with trepidation. The long walks at airports being one of them.
Yes, there were changes but there were many other things that remained unchanged. I loved how the Balinese people start their day with a gesture of prayer. They have little offerings made of leaves, flowers and incense as a symbol of gratitude at their front door or business. A lovely reminder how to start one’s day. For me, gratitude is a gesture of oneness, with whomever one acknowledges that to be, that knits yesterday, today and tomorrow, seamlessly.
I had some specific things I wanted to do while I was in Bali and the usual tourist activities were definitely not the plan. The thing I wanted to do most was to visit a healer. My driver took me deep into the heart of Ubud. Even he was unfamiliar with the roads and had to stop and ask for directions several times in small villages. We reached our destination. I sat at his feet. The man, a stranger to me. His first words to me were not to share anything about myself with him. He held my feet and looked deep into my eyes for several minutes. The intimacy of the moment took me by surprise. He then proceeded to tell me a few things about my life where I had come from and where he thought I would be in the future. Sceptical, I took it all in with a big pinch of salt.
Returning to the hotel I found myself in a different space. I wanted to wander around the beautiful gardens and did this effortlessly. I saw things I wanted to see. I found peace in unexpected places and surprisingly, within me, too. I did not touch my laptop for a week and I cannot remember the last time I did that. But my camera which has been out of reach suddenly found me again. Was it the healer’s words? I’ll never know. I felt I was back, with stories to tell.
While walking next day I noticed this wall. I loved how the soft moss nestled along the lines gave an illusion of ‘mending’, these big rocks into a wall. It made me stop and examine nature’s art more closely. There was something analogous about this but what, was elusive.
That night the urge to write again was strong, almost visceral. The wall, physical and metaphorical, reminded me of the Japanese art of kintsugi where broken pottery is repaired with gold; the transformation a new creation, made more beautiful, than the original. Not because of the gold, but because the eye is drawn to what was once imperfect and travels along each join, where the narrative is told.
I wrote this in response
she ran her fingers through the pieces sifted the broken
the chosen ones, she placed in sequence piece by piece glued with gold
the bowl, emerged whole unbroken
by a dawn bird
There was a space within me that I wanted to share, when I started this blog some years ago. It is a space that is sacred to me. It is who I am. As vulnerable as it makes me, it is my authentic self.
May the new year bring you good health and happiness. May you seek to find that sacred place where imperfection is art and beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If you do, you may find this in people too.
It’s been a while since I shared this space with you. I’m still trying to find my way navigating through what was once familiar territory.
Life and work have resumed for me. The road to here has been torturous in some ways, but always hopeful while I looked beyond the now. I wanted to be back and I knew I would be back. So intent have I been on being well again and resuming my old lifestyle that there have been times I have forgotten to take my camera with me when I work regionally. Not this night in late August. I set my alarm to early morning and was fortunate to have a hotel room with a balcony that gave me this view. It took my breath away … or maybe … it put some breath into me. Whatever that moment may have been. I am here and it’s good to be back.
I’ll soon have time to share your space and I hope you too will share mine.
A Shared Space 
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