Returning home later than I would have liked due to a delayed flight, I was tired when I got to bed. Unusually tired. I dared myself to reflect knowing when I am most vulnerable, I am brutally honest with myself. It’s times like this I question the choices I’ve made in my personal life. If left unchecked my thoughts take me to places I should not visit. Having completed one too many trips this year, I had to face the truth. I’m no spring chicken. That was harsher reality I would liked to have faced and nothing to do with vanity. It meant something had to change when I love all aspects of my working life, which, although strenuous, I have adopted the mind set, this is my calling.
I go to places where others don’t or can’t go but in a system of universal health care, I believe that equality is demonstrated in practice. If people cannot come to me for whatever reason, and I’m able to go to them, I do. Does it leave me at times, especially at night, exhausted? For sure. But when I wake, my spirit is rested, my body uncoils and I spring into action because I believe what I do is honoring the commitment I made years ago.
I’ve just returned from the Midwest. We were busy with a full schedule. I like my work there as I team up with someone I enjoy working with. We often say how lucky we are to be doing the work we do and importantly, enjoy what we do. Working with someone like this makes the load easier.
Catching the last plane out, I had more time on my hands so I planned to complete the endless pending reports but before I sat down to do this, I decided to go out and take some pictures. I’m glad I did.
I see symbolism in the trees in Geraldton. The trees in this region continue to grow despite experiencing a stiff breeze all the time. And, when growth stops, the trees lean but never break, they are poised in silent dance with a challenging partner. Aren’t we all?
I watched seagulls for a while and their beautiful glass eyes and their sleek profile and wondered if I am the only person who sees the beauty in them?
The sea shimmered in the afternoon sun at St Georges Beach. A young woman stepped out of the water, and as her car was parked next to mine, she started to talk to me. She was from the other side of Australia and mentioned having grown up near a beach, she always seeks the water at least once a day. She thought I was a tourist and I told her I was working that day but took time off to breathe. “What’s there to see if you’re not in the water?” she asked me with youthful curiosity. A water nymph! A mermaid on land! She towelled her hair vigorously, her question almost a dare that was softened with laughter. I see seagulls, shimmering sea and leaning trees, I told her. My face must have changed expression when I said this. She looked around her and said, “oh yeah!” slowly like she had just noticed the landscape. She told me she could see what I could see and that she could see photography was my ‘water’. She also laughed and said, she would never look at a seagull the same way again after I had highlighted the beauty I see in them! The encounter was just what I needed. My prayer each time I set foot outdoors is to show me something beautiful that I can share with others. Yesterday afternoon, my prayers were answered again.
This morning the home was silent and cool. I made a list of things to do. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but the list seemed longer than yesterday. I went to the kitchen to get coffee to rev up my day when I saw a gift given to me about two years ago had transformed.
The hoya plant is beautiful. I had one years ago that was a prolific bloomer and given to me as a cutting by an elderly lady who later passed on. I treasured it but my elderly gardener did not know the sentiment and inadvertently destroyed it. For some reason I never bought one again to replace it even though I love the blooms. Then two years ago another lady gave me a cutting quite spontaneously from her garden. Protected from my gardener, it has been sitting at the kitchen window, a bare stem with two leaves. The hoya flowers bloom all year and are not seasonal.
This morning, on a cool autumn day, the gift bloomed and brought spring indoors. I feel youthful, once more.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
The sand drift creates amazing dunes. I’ve posted a pic in the previous post. I sit for a few minutes enjoying the sea sculpt the land around me and then from the safety of my car (from all that sand), I love zooming in. I know on busy days we love a beach walk, but did you know you walk on a bejewelled carpet?
The kite surfers loves this beach for the strong winds. I just love it for what it is. A shimmering sea.
As the day wound down I saw a grandmother fishing. It flooded me with emotion. She sat on a chair while wetting a line, the grandchildren were curious and ran around but checked in every few minutes. A circle of security unfolding before me and such a wonderful memory for the grandchildren, of time spent with her. I never knew my grandmothers, so I experienced this moment with a sense of joy and sadness.
The sunset across the water, where you’ll find Pelican Point, is always stunning.
And, in the morning, the water is like glass.
I love the mangroves as the waters recede. I know the waterbirds love it too. I don’t know how but I managed to see the tiny shoveller and got some beautiful pics. For now, I’ll just share one with you.
The waterbird seemed more interested feeding on mud skippers than the crabs of which there were thousands.
Had the crabs not been moving, I would not have seen them either. In some places they looked like a carpet being lifted as they crawled across undulating mud flats.
There was a slow brew on the horizon
It was pre-dawn. 
I opened the blinds wider and was greeted by dawn over a sleeping town.
I love the sound of my boots crunching on dirt tracks. The sudden bounce of the shy kangaroo. The sense of being alone but not lonely. Birdsong in the tree canopy.
To me there is nothing more Wheatbelt that the sight of a pink galah in a gum tree. This was a young one.
It was a fairy floss pink.
Foxes Lair seemed like a bird nursery. There were young ring neck parrots on the ground.
The little redcap parrot joined in.
The junior Western rosella was busy feasting on gumnuts before me.
Then took it up on a tree to enjoy the rest of it.
Once it flew away I waited patiently in anticipation. It returned in full view of me. Pretty as a picture, don’t you think?
There was just one other car in the car park when I got there early morning. As I walked along the coastal walk, I found it belonged to a young fisherman wetting a line in the distance.
The waters here are generally calm but on this day there was a swell coming through. Hopefully he got what he came for. I know I did.
The birds were not awake yet so I spent some time looking at the path I walked, metaphorically speaking too. I found one can find colour in the most unexpected bland places.
A gumnut caught my eye. It rolled down an embankment and came to rest against a small edge of a big rock. A cm here or there would have made a difference to where it landed and perhaps, never seen by me. Much like chance encounters.
I love dragonflies. I mean, what’s not to love about them. They have wings of sheer shimmering lace and yet they are long distance fliers. I find strength in that.
Soon my walk was filled with sound. The little Silvereye were everywhere.
And if you ever want to see kookaburra, Meelup Beach is the place. They were at least a dozen birds sitting on low branches or foraging in the leafy carpet.
Then there was this one who decided to do a full dive into the water and came out looking like a rag! 
High in a nearby tree I heard the plaintive cry of a young eagle as it rose up to stand in the nest.
Magnificent bird.
I was glad I got here early. I had the opportunity to enjoy silence before the laughter of families. Although I confess, I enjoyed both equally.
The Whale Tail is iconic. I’d love to rip up every other structure within sight so the beauty of this sculpture can be fully appreciated.
Before dawn, the colours across the Bay were beautiful in pale blues and greys. This is a town where I feel so safe and secure. It is my soft place to land each month.
I walked around Windabout Lake where the pelicans cruised like ocean liners.
Across the board walk, the bankia cones were everywhere.
And just when I thought I was alone!
A joey. Look at those eyes!
I caught the last rays of sun through these flowers. Love the detail in the leaves.
The bush is getting ready for autumn. The sphere banksia groves were a brilliant green lace.
It was late at dusk. The bush was quiet. The birds were resting, their day done, when I saw this Painted Lady flower vine climbing up a tall tree, the limbs looked frosted but on zoom, the flowers were gorgeous in detail. These flowers are quite small and grow in clumps.
Nature speaks a 
I’m an amateur at photography. I don’t have a clue about what I’m doing so it was a delight playing with light. I love the glowing crown on this little silvereye.
Can a duck have too many colours? I’ve seen these ducks so often but never really noticed this.
I love these pink gum flowers. It’s a pink I would not dare to wear. (Having said that, maybe I will, one day).
One of my favourite flowers is the Geraldton Wax. They have been planted along the freeway to reduce sound. The shrub grows high and wide. In spring, they are covered in flowers and make a beautiful vase of cut flowers. I’m planning to have one or two of them in my garden. I especially love the white flowers.
It was winter in Margaret River when I rugged up and went for a bush walk. This caught my eye in the garden as I headed out. I had never seen a fig growing on a tree before. Luscious little thing!
I recall this flower was tiny. It took ages to get this pic. Worth it, I think.
These snowdrops bloom in August at my front door. Why don’t they all droop, head down while others perk up to light? Perhaps they are a reminder, hold on, spring is next.
I’ve grown to be curious about lichen. I love the ‘colonies’ that coat limbs. In nature, life goes on. There is no death. Or perhaps, there’s life, in another form.
A Shared Space 
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