I returned home from a quick trip yesterday. I enjoyed the slight bite in the air while I was in the South West. I tolerate it less in the city where it always seems to be sharper, maybe, because it is the city. 
I parked my car in the driveway and found the pink roses looked fatigued too. 
Strewn with rose petals, my front garden looked like a wedding had taken place.
While climbing roses on the arbor, reluctant to let summer go, clung on. There are ‘pockets’ of garden around my property. A legacy of the previous owner, a florist. It is a delight! Something seems to be blooming somewhere, making it always a garden. Being home so infrequently and for short visits, I enjoy looking around to see what lies in wait. I’m never disappointed.
No muted shades for this little one in the side garden. Reflecting the vividness of sunset.
And, there were others, still beautiful, before they fade away.
The geraniums always bloom. 
They are a welcome splash of colour in winter.
This shrub is covered in spokes of purple blooms.
The garden, it seems, is in transition. After autumn, comes winter, then spring.
There are no messy endings in Nature. A lesson learned, so I’ll wait, for spring.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
The morning was tinted in muted colours. The beach, nearly empty.
When the jogger was out of sight, the seagull kept me company
I stepped off the jetty to watch the dolphins play. They enjoyed the limelight.
As if it noticed me, one flipped on it’s back and swam a length, to show off the latest party trick.
The tide was leaving. The sun arrived.
I started to see things that first startled me … a mouse?!
I relaxed. Angel wings, or perhaps a butterfly.
I realised, the pristine sand was just shells, waiting for time, like me.
There was plenty to distract me, like the honeyeater in the scrub.
The cormorant on the pontoon, in the early morning sun.
The pied oystercatcher, with mate.
As the day ended, lovers, like lovers often do, stopped to watch a setting sun slide into the sea.
Like I said in the previous post, yes I’ve travelled the world, but every morning I wake in awe, to find it at my feet.
She saw colours more vibrant
than any painting in a gallery.
And when colours were muted
she found, they still told a story.
She searched for the Cape Barren Geese, at every trip to Esperance and found the giant bird, doing the impossible. Looking elegant.
Her eyes held a joey’s gaze while it snuggled deep within the mother’s pouch. It was something she only read about.
She walked with waders until they found the perfect palette for her to capture the moment.
She delighted in the ice cream pink wave of flowers, she found one day, in spring.
Over the years, my faith has grown stronger but my church no longer has walls.
But, I seek the one that stands apart. The one that sets the stage for me.
I found them in my garden.
Viola! in the strawberry, waiting to fruit.
Among bush tracks.
Against a fence.
In the neighbour’s garden.
In the eyes of the magpie lark, as it picked through the remnants of my breakfast.
In the eyes of a sick dog, who knows she is loved.
In my eyes, when I found the heart I left behind.
And, when I walked among the ‘sea clouds’.
I found my very own Milky Way.
So I took it home, and like a child at Halloween, emptied my pockets of loot.
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.
the tide is receding, when I find lines drawn between sand and sea.
they chronicle time
or memoralise life, between the lines.
The sea may leave a sprig of foliage. An oasis, when you least expect it.
Sand from far away places.
Tiny shells, from who knows where.
The rocks covered with barnacles.
And there are sea creatures, just as encrusted.
I always visit this slab of rock. It is jewel like with barnacles.
So enthralled by it for several visits, I failed to see one just beyond, and closer to the sea.
There is life in tiny crevices. The ibis knows this.
So does the heron that walks with intent. While the seagull photo bombs, also with intent.
Above the roar of waves, I can hear the crunch of footsteps on a shell encrusted beach.
And, amid the noise and beach clutter, the tiny sand plover takes a moment to stand still.
A Shared Space 
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