Sunrise, Esperance Bay, Western Australia
Nature has no walls
no roof, no fence line, nor gate
no grout, holding together
the colours that accentuate
Nature paints boldly
and never in black and white
Nature fills in spaces, taking risks
like love
in pink and blue
and sometimes grey, for contrast
a dawn bird
In response to Pic and a Word Challenge: Risk #183
My trip to Esperance was a whirl. The flight in was rough and as we jostled along into descent I calmed my nerves by thinking about Lake Windabout. ‘
The flight was late coming in and there was only a short window of light before dusk. I headed to the lake from the airport to a find about a dozen pelicans. The water was pewter in fading light. The pelicans, a beautiful contrast.
I like reading about the symbolism of birds. I thought is was interesting that the only birds I saw this time (other than persistent photo bombing seagulls), were pelicans.
Pelicans are collaborative birds who work to the other’s strengths and skills. They herd fish and share the bounty.
It’s interesting because at the end of a challenging two day clinic, a colleague sent me a TED talk link. We both work well together. And, we do because we work collaboratively. There’s strength in this, another symbolic feature of a pelican.
Interestingly, my business slogan is: “Working collaboratively, works best”.
If the pelicans were there to ‘speak’ to me symbolically. All I can say is, copy that!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
The mood yields
day to night
The shift
As old as time
perspicacious
they take it slow
seek and find the wave
to ride in to shore
as one.
a dawn bird
In response to Ragtag Daily Prompt: perspicacious
This is Kooljaman (aka Cape Leveque) about 200 kms north of Broome in the far north of Western Australia. The sea and sky are the bluest blue and the dust, the pindan dirt, is red. It is stunning country.
I first went to the Kimberley region for work in 2012. I had heard how beautiful it was so I bought my first DSLR camera. And, that’s where the love affair with photography started.
I saw the environment around me in ways I hadn’t seen before. The clouds had texture, the dirt had colour. I was blinded to this before.
I became hungry for life. Prior to this, I was living … barely … after the death of a friend. I was productive, successful in what I was doing, raising children to navigate life, on the surface, all was well. But, my creativity shut down. I could not write. There was nowhere inside, I could go. I did not have hunger, the kind that comes from the deepest recesses of one’s being. It’s difficult to explain, unless you have experienced it.
The camera changed this in a profound way. Now, the best thing about this hunger is, it never goes away. There is no satiety. The appetite increases with each click I take.
I awaken to sunrise from my bed when I wake in Narrogin. I prop myself up and wait for this moment. It never fails to delight.
And the bark of the ‘leopard tree’ in the parking lot of the hotel in Bunbury, gives me pause when I’m unloading/loading up the car.
The telltale signs of where the tide has been has made me accept transiency for the joy of the moment.
Flying into Broome, never fails to take my breath away.
I no longer window shop life. I live it. I experience it. May you do, too.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I decided to leave a bit earlier for Merredin, hoping to get there before dark but, roadworks and a big convoy of road trains for part of the journey slowed me down considerably. I am so done with roadworks!
It struck me yesterday how nervous I used to be overtaking one of those big trucks even when there was an overtaking lane. I would never overtake on a country road at any other time. I’ve learnt to trust these drivers. They know they hold up traffic and help out other motorists. Seated high in their rigs they have a good view what’s in the distance. I’ve learnt their helpful signals, two clicks of an indicator means pass or clicks on the opposite side, means get back in lane. If there’s no traffic a thank you wave gets a quick high beam. Communication between strangers who will never meet.
For the stretch between Cunderdin and Kellerberrin there was just one truck ahead of me. The sun was seated at the horizon. It was going to be dark soon. I just had to stop and take a picture. I love those skies in the Wheatbelt!
I spent a few moments resting. It was peaceful with sheep in the paddock. With occasional traffic, it was the silence of solitude that I love so much.
My visit went well. I’ve been asked to do another talk in six months, so I guess that went well too.
I decided to come home after work instead of spending another night there. It’s a 3.5 hour journey and I knew it would be dark for some of the way but I would be closer to the city and street lights. As luck would have it I got delayed at work, and I had already checked out. I had no option but drive home. By the time I got to Kellerberrin, there was haze from burn off and dust from winds. Visibility was poor but the sunset was spectacular. A massive blood red sun that seemed to get bigger as it slipped from view. I just could not find a safe enough spot to take a picture so I just experienced the moment instead.
Although the weather has been warmer for autumn, the landscape is welcoming a cooler change around the Wheatbelt.
There are chocolate shards peeling off gum trees in Narrogin.
This trunk was so tactile. You could feel the life of this big tree in every ripple and indentation. It made me think, one can never say they are alone when they are with trees. They are a silent presence in my moments of solitude. They are a perfect partner for me!
The fallen gum nuts created moments of still life photography of what once was, and still is, beautiful. They made me watch my footsteps and walk mindfully. A teaching moment here, too.
Outside my chalet window, the textures and colours of a young tree, distracted me. Who could blame me?
I’m home where I’m also happy. The major renovations are done. I need to get the painting sorted. The colours will come from nature’s palette. I’m starting to embrace this house as my home. I can envisage what I want with clarity.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
We had some rain last night and it is still grey outdoors. I have a long drive East to the Wheatbelt today and I’ve been checking on the weather reports periodically. I dislike driving through a storm cell there. They can be intense.
I realised this morning I’m supposed to give a talk tomorrow and it slipped off my radar. I’ll have to wing it. I’m done with stats and will go with facts instead. How am I this calm about it?! I’ll have hours in the car to put it together in my mind, I keep telling myself. The subject is something I’m passionate about, so the task ahead is restraint, not overkill. 
Public speaking is a fear experienced by most. As a student, it made my knees go weak, my throat dry and my voice, even softer. I recall the first presentation I made in my undergraduate years to a full class. At the time I worked at the university too and asked Security if I could access the lecture room over the weekend. I stood in an empty room and was in a state of panic over the thought of it being filled with people. I thought of strategies to overcome this. I was using a behavioural strategy to some degree (exposure) but the trigger was visual. So I decided to give the talk without wearing my contacts and told the audience I could not see beyond the first three rows, so if they had a question, they would have to call out instead of raising their hand. It worked a treat! I gave my talk without a stumble and went on to present a paper at a conference in Washington DC before I graduated, not that I’m clever, I was passionate about my research. I ended up walking away from it after I graduated.
Passion is good if it lights a fire that doesn’t consume. That work was consuming me. It was in every corner of my home. One day I started collecting all my journals and paperwork and placed them in the middle of the lounge room. I watched it for a few days and then decided, like one does, this relationship is not going to work. It took courage to do this. Doesn’t it always to end something? I had invested nearly ten years of my life in this. But, something had to give.
Since then I’ve learned how to exercise restraint. I’ve learnt how to practice including all views and finding a common ground. It is the art of win-win. I’m still a novice at this and tomorrow I’ll need the practice.
Tomorrow I’ll take my cue from a cormorant. I love how they spread their wings as soon as they get wet, a ‘come all ye faithful’ pose without a flock. An inclusive gesture for a solitary bird.
I know what I have to say tomorrow may not fall on ears that are receptive. My views may not align with theirs. But, I do know I can make the offer, the gesture, even if it is an audience of one.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Well! another month I didn’t get to Narrogin by afternoon. I found myself wanting to complete just one more chore before I left home and didn’t factor in all the roadworks along the way that slowed me down considerably. By the time I got to the tiny farming town of Williams I was stretched for time. It was already dark. The main road is undergoing major works and it was a tight squeeze getting past town not knowing where the detour was taking me.
The stretch of road, some 30 kms, between Williams and Narrogin is flanked by farms and woodlands. Kangaroo and foxes are a danger here and when the speed limit is 110 km/hour, it is hazardous driving for someone unfamiliar with these roads at night. It was pitch dark. I felt like I was the only person left on earth.
Next morning I resisted the urge to go to Foxes Lair as I needed to catch up on work. But, my heart was there and I wondered what awaited me. (By the way delayed gratification works! I was able to meet my goals!).
There was enough rain overnight to wash my car clean. I also knew the bush reserve of Foxes Lair would have loved the rain. It looked fresh and the perfume of gum trees and rain … just delicious.
The banksia was in autumn colours of copper and gold. 
The delicate manna acacia leaves were perfectly frilled and framed by barbed wire.
The ringneck parrots were high in the gum trees and came down lower after they got used to my presence. This one was a juvenile. I loved the tail feather!
The parrots love gum nuts and I’ve gone used to the shower when I walk under them. It can rain gum nuts when there is a flock feasting. They do hurt when they hit the head!
They can be quite bold. This one took time to come closer after a period of peekaboo.
I watched how they picked up the gum nuts with their claw and ate it. This one did the same with tiny fragments it found. How intelligent they are!
Busted with gum nut in beak!
The adult is quite large. There were about a dozen near where I stood.
This one was a juvenile and ate with manners. Yes, it was a stretch of imagination, but I was waiting for the ‘pinky’ to be raised, high tea style!
Home tonight and then back out to the Eastern Wheatbelt. More driving and looks like there will be storms too. Not looking forward to that at all.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
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
I flew to Carnarvon on Sunday. With a cyclone further north I was not looking forward to the trip in a small plane but surprisingly, it was a pleasant flight. We disembarked into a hot day and even hotter the next day (40 degrees celsius).
I do what I always do in Carnarvon. Check in, buy fruit and water before the only supermarket closes for the day, and then head out to Pelican Point. I love the sand and sea there. It helps restore me to where I want to be.
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.
I returned home yesterday to the usual flurry of home tasks. I woke at 5 am this morning. The home was dark and silent as I walked among familiar shadows. The traffic on the freeway was still faintly audible, despite the distance from home. The birds were not yet awake. I drank a cup of coffee and planned the morning, the usual plan for home, laundry, tidy up, pay bills etc. It’s a different gear shift.
I’m off again today, this time to the Midwest, and to experiences I love there too. I hope to bring back some of those, to share with you.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I stood in rain and asked,
“why me?”
when the key would not unlock the door
I turned my back to retrace my steps
when I saw the calligraphy
in the tracery, of my cathedral
that framed the stained window
it was delicate, the hand worked it steady
the art withstood the fiercest storms
it was deliberate, you could see
the lines spoke so
it was there before my eyes
had I not been locked out,
I would not have seen it,
Alone, I took it in, selfishly
I read the message
and before the end
the child in me smiled
her soft voice rose above the storm
as she asked the question
with wonder,
and without entitlement,
“why not?”
a dawn bird
There was a slow brew on the horizon
the kind I’d seen before
distant, yet, palpable
as if within
It drifted in
I know not from where
it found a place in my heart
I didn’t know was there
And as the sky rumbled
It warmed, it ignited
It flashed the brightest light
It set my world alight
And then
it was dark again
a dawn bird
I’m home after completing a 500 km round trip in summer hot weather. I left early this morning hoping to avoid the heat but got lost along the way and spent 40 minutes trying to establish phone contact with the person I was going to see. I wish I was advised in advance the road was unsealed for part of the way! The journey took an hour longer than I expected. This is not country you want to get lost in.
Around 20 years ago a young girl went hitch hiking from her farm to a friend’s farm in these parts. She is everyone’s child. She was never found again. The accused is in prison. He was taken on a walk of his alleged alibi by police some years ago. He walked the streets of Moora where I work sometimes. It always gives me chills when I walk through the town.
I took this from inside the car and just noticed the dirty windscreen! I drove under the shadow of wedge tailed eagles. I was hoping I would see some roadside so I could take a picture. They are magnificent birds in flight and on ground. I was out of luck, this time.
This is some 40 kms north of Badgingarra. The countryside was so beautiful. Some green and a lot of it, the beige of Wheatbelt land.
Along the way I stopped for a moment to get a drink of water from the boot when I noticed a white eruption in the distance. I zoomed in. It was so far away I still could not discern what it was.
Until there was almost a paddock full of these moving white objects. They came towards me like an avalanche.
It’s only when they got closer that I realised they were sheep. Poor animals probably thought I had feed and came running towards the car. I would have loved to have stayed with them longer but it didn’t feel right to tantalize them, so I left.
I’m thrilled I made this journey today. I’ve never driven on the Brand Highway on my own. I hope to get more work in this area in spring. The wildflowers must be amazing here. There were kilometres of groves of banksia trees with peachy white cones.
Time for me to catch a few minutes before I start packing for Kalgoorlie tomorrow.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
On a cool autumn morn
I opened the window
to let the sunrise in
stretched, and caressed
summer on my skin
still brown and fragrant
as a cinnamon quill
a dawn bird
In response to Pic and a Word Challenge #178 – sunrise
There was a time in my life when working full time, completing studies and raising little children on my own, was crushing my spirit. Each day I’d wake and knew the work commitments were going to be the same as the day before and without any respite. Had I known then it would be 13 years before I had a holiday, I would never have gotten out of bed.
On Sunday night I went to bed early. The week ended with me driving many kms. I take care of myself when I have to drive. On Monday morning I ran through my schedule for the days ahead. I snuggled deeper in bed or perhaps it was the weight of commitments that kept me there longer. In the dark I sneaked a peek at the clock. 
It was pre-dawn. 
I opened the blinds wider and was greeted by dawn over a sleeping town.
I felt blessed because I no longer wake to mornings. I wake to dawn and therein lies a difference. Mornings were part of schedule. They came in rotation every 24 hours. They were predictable. They were busy.
Dawn is my muse. I am creative and productive at dawn. I look forward to dawn each day because I know it will be different. Endless hours of therapy could not have awakened this in me. It is something to be experienced in spirit, so I set off to experience this in Foxes Lair.
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?
And this is how I started my day on Monday.
So who needs a holiday? Not me!
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
I’m leaving home again today. Last night was a rare night where I could cook myself a meal. With autumn here, the nights and early mornings are cooler. It was time to get the slow cooker out while I caught up with my chores at home. I tried something new, a slow cooked Vietnamese beef stew. It was delicious. This morning the air in the kitchen was fragrant with ginger, star anise, and lemon grass.
In the South West earlier this month I spent a night in Dunsborough. It’s a small coastal town. One of my favourite places to visit here is Meelup Beach, a favourite of others too.
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.
Time to get packing again.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
A Shared Space 
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