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.
In my early childhood years in India we experienced Christmas as it was celebrated from 1 December onwards. Everyday there would be cooking and baking activity with a range of sweets, biscuits and cakes being made for distribution to all in the neighbourhood, regardless of their faith beliefs and to share with visitors. The treats would be plenty enough to last between Christmas Day and the Feast of Epiphany in January. The theme of sharing was strong. Gifts were rarely exchanged, if at all, but visitors could be sure of one thing, there would always be plenty of food.
I don’t recall Christmas trees in homes or shops. Nor were there Nativity scenes in homes but there was always one in the church. I loved dolls and oh! how I longed to cuddle ‘baby Jesus’ in my arms, but reverence demanded I touch the statue’s feet gently, which I did under my mother’s stern “Don’t you dare!” gaze!
Sadly, my tradition has evolved. From October I’m on the lookout for more Christmas ornaments. Over the years my Christmas tree has become too ornate. I love buying glittering glass ornaments and have too many! I have some that I bought at Harrods and Selfridges in London in the 80s! I can’t bear to part with even one. Each year I add only one new ornament to the collection with a special thought given to the one I buy. This year I was stopped in my tracks. Literally.
The picture above was taken between the township of Exmouth and the airport. It is a remote area. I’m not sure whether the Nativity scene belonged to the nearby farm or someone just decided to place it there. On a fiercely hot day it spoke to me. Driving at 80 kms/hour, I slowed down, turned my car around and reflected. No glitter or gaudy buntings in sight. Just the bare simple message of simplicity, in white cardboard. This, too, is Christmas.
Whatever your beliefs, my wish for you is to be surrounded by the love and laughter of your family and friends on Christmas Day. And, may the Christmas Star shine brightly and lead them to you.
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.
The first thing I did in Bali was book myself for a 2.5 hour spa treatment, the young woman worked her magic and I found it was the first of several visits to the spa during my week long stay.
Seated here one day I reset … I recalled … there’s a phrase often used by people of a certain generation, especially from the area where my roots, from the father’s side of the family, are firmly embedded: “Let it be, baa“. ”Baa” being a term of endearment in the local dialect. My paternal grandfather often said this to my mother when she seemed fraught by some issue or other. Over the years, I had forgotten this. It is now gentle self-talk, each day.
I sat on a comfortable chair, sipping delicious ginger tea after my spa treatments and exhaled. I did nothing for half an hour but watch the ducks glide by and the turtle hugging a rock. There was nothing else in the world in those moments, except sit back and let it be. And when I did, time stood still.
Driven by deadlines in the city, life had become constricting. It was like being on a treadmill … the faster you run, the faster it moves and there’s danger is losing balance. This is where I was when I spent most of 2023 focused on getting my business and my health back on track. Until my reset in Bali.
Adopting a laissez-faire attitude does not have to be negative. I found it is highly likely I’ve returned to a balanced place because I practice letting go, letting all else fall away, being without direction, for a few minutes each day. On a personal level, I’ve found psychological and spiritual value in experiencing this each day.
My mantras when things don’t go to plan, are simple ones: All is well. Let it go. Let it be. There’s no harm in this thinking. I firmly believe at the end of the day, the Universe takes care of ‘business’. It helps me to travel ‘light’. And that’s the laissez-faire attitude I adopt in managing my life!
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.
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.
I woke at dawn the other morning
the kitchen was flooded with light
I stood at the window and watched
a sequin, embellish the velvet night
There was no coffee in hand to remind me
of the distant past
when we stood conversing silently,
no questions asked
In those moments,
we owned eternity
life was larger than life itself
oh! the unbridled audacity
how young we were!
we said so much more in silence,
than words could ever say
I know now, always is but a moment
that moment, is today
When
I stood still at the window and waited
and so what if it took years and a day?
for the the wan moon to brighten
and for the supermoon to take her place.
It’s eighteen years and a day
My grief has come of age
So the boxes are packed
I’m giving your clothes away
The shirt I wore at dawn
Those grey socks kept my feet warm
your jacket is empty
the sleeves, too, of hugs.
Your touch, your taste is elusive
your absence takes up less space
I no longer lie in bed and wait
you nudging at my ribs
whispering, Hey! You awake?
It’s eighteen years and a day
yes, my grief has come of age
In that darkest space there is a celebration
as angel wings sprout
and thoughts of you lift me up
How proud you would have been
Against all odds,
I have lived to say
your memory brings joy as always
but you should also know, there are nights
Oh! how I wish you were with me again.
At dawn, warmed by bed
I walk through a garden of words
the one you plant each day
stay a while
inhale the perfume
and from a bed of roses,
pluck a passion flower
to bloom in my heart
where it stays
unchallenged by reality
we dream in words
to say, the unsaid.
This is Solo, a duckling I found on the banks of the lake near my home. She was part of a big family, but she caught my eye. I’ve written about her in a post some years ago. She was so brave and always vulnerable as she stepped away from the safety of the brood. She had a broken foot that healed in a way that made her limp. It didn’t stop her adventures. I take my cues on life, from her.
It is only recently that I started to value my single life. The thing I value the most, is early morning when I can be alone with my thoughts, but there are some disadvantages too, like a few nights ago.
I got to Moora just before dusk to find teens on mountain bikes playing chicken with the light traffic of occasional trucks and cars. I have worked with teens who have no regard for law and order, more so than the rite of passage of adolescence. When in a group, things can go wrong very quickly. So I assessed what I could see. The police lights were flashing in the distance so I knew they were keeping an eye on things. I got to my chalet in the caravan park and started working. By night time I curled up on the sofa to watch TV, the raucous laughter of teens carried by silence, to me. A true life sleuthing of a cold case had me transfixed so I stayed on the sofa until late. I finally turned the lights off and peered outside only to find, I was the only person staying in the caravan park! I didn’t need to know this!
I lay in bed unable to sleep. The caravan park backs on to a local oval and is right in the middle of the tiny town. The sense of isolation crept up my spine. My vulnerability made my heart pound in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. Then I went through the drill of safety. It goes like this. As soon as I enter a hotel room, I check the doors and windows are locked. I do this for a reason. I’ve had three incidents where this kept me safe.
The first is when this safety drill took a life of its own. It is another story so I’ll hold that for now.
The second incident happened in Broome. It was hot and humid, as Broome usually is. It was in the middle of the day when I got to my room. I checked and the big glass door was locked. I stepped in for a cool shower then wrapped a towel around me and walked into the bedroom only to find a man in the courtyard trying to open the sliding door. I thought he was a guest and entered the wrong courtyard. I called out to him but he scurried away without looking backwards. When I reported this to the hotel, they mentioned other people had complained too and they were on the lookout for him. That’s when it struck me that he wasn’t a guest and how lucky I was.
The second time was in Bunbury. Fatigued from driving I lay down on the bed at dusk after checking the windows and doors. I fell asleep and woke around 11 pm. The curtains were wide open and the room was adjacent to the main road into town. I closed the curtains, got ready for bed and switched off the lights. As I lay there, I heard cautious footsteps, then the gate to my courtyard open with a slight squeak. I listened as the security sliding door opened oh so slowly. I was on my feet in a flash and flicked on the outside light. I heard footsteps scurry away. The management were kind enough never to give me an outer room again.
In Moora I knew everything was locked in the chalet. This knowledge calmed me eventually. I switched my focus on the here and now and lay in bed listening to small sounds. Anxiety had distorted them to thunder, so I focused steadily. I heard gumnuts rain on the roof in a stiff breeze while the hum of the air con filled the night air intermittently. All was well. It was summer in the Wheatbelt. A time and place for everything. So I allowed sleep to overtake me.
The next morning I woke to light. I must have turned off the air con sometime during the night. The chalet was cool. The pink galahs were screeching raucously in the gum trees. All else was still. Despite the noise from the birds, it felt like solitude. Coffee seemed to jar a gentle moment of awakening, so I made a mild cuppa tea, English Breakfast, instead. And, like Solo, I contemplated.
Sometimes we create squiggles from a straight line. Sometimes, a straight line can be a squiggle. I’ve found resilience comes down to perception and how we see things.Solo has remained a duckling in memory. I suspect a careless driver ended her adventures one day. I never saw her again after the initial few days she roamed the neighbourhood. I’m sure Solo would agree, single or attached is irrelevant. It is how we live life is important. Tiny as she was, she was powerful in her presence. She taught me, if one looks, one finds, life is all about the unexpected. I’ve seen new generations of ducklings since then, but she remains warm in memory. Today my smile comes easier.
I’m off again. Having given away the humdrum of 9 to 5, I’m humming Billy Joel’s, ‘This is my Life’ instead.
Finding balance in a busy world, is an art. And like art, highly subjective. What works for one, does not work for the other. It all comes down to knowing the what, when and where for oneself.
I get to visit some beautiful places for work and sometimes, holiday. The coastal towns of Broome, Exmouth and Esperance come to mind immediately. But even in these tourist towns, I seek solitude in the crowd. I find a quiet spot away from the people and that’s not hard to do on Cable Beach with 22 km of beach. Esperance is my second home. I know exactly where I’m happiest in this small town. I also know in Exmouth, I’m happiest near the ocean at sunrise and sunset or delighting in smooth pebbles or shells.
But away from the big name places, I look for the ordinary things. Looking at them differently generates a mind shift for me. I’m never sure what I am photographing. I just instinctively feel the need to take a picture and then months, or years later, see something special in that moment.
I’ll share some of those moments with you.On the banks of the Fitzroy River in Willare (Kimberley region) I found these leaves along the banks. The wind had created this perfect formation. They were tightly wedged in.At home the bees in the front garden love the roses. I love the tiger stripes and colours.I have become addicted to the crunch of my boots in the silence of the bush. Sometimes I stop and check what’s at my feet. Often I find perfection.I always seem to find heart shaped rocks on the beach. I now find heart shaped leaves in the bush. The universe is speaking and so I stop and listen, ear to the ground.I love photographing surfers. They are passionate and fearless. I learn from them, it’s okay to be the same.Surfers find balance, in balance. A hard act to follow. I’m fine tuning that.
Photography has been my lifeline. I need a few minutes every day with my camera. And, in a crazy world, that’s how I steady myself.
The note said, “I’m leaving”
destination, unknown
bags packed and neatly stored
by the front door
I remember the moment well
unafraid, you stepped into the night
and the world trembled as you walked.
I was silenced by your instinct
turned my back on your gamble
after all, what dialect does one use
to reason with this foolish wager
I had too much to lose to watch you win
I stepped aside, always an adult, never a player.
in this game of chance called life.
But truth be told,
I was in awe of your audacity
I followed the footprints you left in my heart
biding my time
until now
I have the courage of a gambler
the curiosity of an explorer
I am a linguist,
I can speak the unspoken now
I can stare you down
or so I thought.
Last night I took my place
as you threw the dice
our eyes met, fortune flipped
your gaze softened
as I scooped the winnings
unaware you let me win
It’s been a crazy week. Very hot temperatures last weekend followed by a winter storm. The rain was not as heavy as predicted but the winds were strong. I walked around the garden looking for Brave Willie but he was nowhere to be found. I fretted he may have been blown further away in strong winds. Although he was silent, too silent for a Willy Wagtail, his tiny presence was larger than life in the space we shared.
Then yesterday a bush fire flared up not far from home. The area where I live has a lot of gum trees. A fire in the distance makes everyone scan the horizon nervously. So naturally, I didn’t sleep too well last night. This morning I was woken by helicopters flying overheard, so low you could hear the whoop of the rotor blades. No doubt they were scooping water from the lake. I went to the back and could see nothing, nor was there smoke visible in the front of the home. It was early and with no drama in sight, I thought I may as well start working. I wrote reports for over an hour, deep in thought when I heard something. My fingers froze. My senses alert. There it was, the unmistakably fluting sweet call of a Willy Wagtail. I knew it was him! How did I know? Well, it was slightly off key! But he tried again and again and between attempts, he got it right. Seated on a high branch (yes, now confident in his flying skills), he was chirping away.
I went outdoors with my camera, I got him in the frame, focused and memory card was full! Arrgh! I left him and went indoors for my phone. He was still tweeting his little heart out when I returned. As the sun came up he lifted off into perfect flight . My heart soared with him.
I can remember the first time I flew in an a plane. In my mid teens I flew alone to Canada. I didn’t want to sleep on the long flight in case I missed something! In New York I went by helicopter from Kennedy Airport to La Guardia Airport. I’ll never forget my wide eyed wonder when I saw Empire State Building all lit up at night.
The little girl who sat on the doorstep and dreamed of flying across the world one day, was living her dream. Overwhelmed she just didn’t know it at the time.
When in bloom, the jasmine rains steadily. The perfume is almost overwhelming. The bees and I can’t get enough of it.
I’ve grown to love this garden. The previous owner was a florist. She knew what to plant and where. I lost the honeysuckle vine in the storm, but glad the jasmine survived winter’s wrath.
I’m slowly adapting to this space. It is special for many reasons, but the most important one being, it is home to me.
This is Solo, a duckling I found on the banks of the lake near my home. She was part of a big family, but she caught my eye. I’ve written about her in a 
Solo has remained a duckling in memory. I suspect a careless driver ended her adventures one day. I never saw her again after the initial few days she roamed the neighbourhood. I’m sure Solo would agree, single or attached is irrelevant. It is how we live life is important. Tiny as she was, she was powerful in her presence. She taught me, if one looks, one finds, life is all about the unexpected. I’ve seen new generations of ducklings since then, but she remains warm in memory. Today my smile comes easier.
On the banks of the Fitzroy River in Willare (Kimberley region) I found these leaves along the banks. The wind had created this perfect formation. They were tightly wedged in.
At home the bees in the front garden love the roses. I love the tiger stripes and colours.
I have become addicted to the crunch of my boots in the silence of the bush. Sometimes I stop and check what’s at my feet. Often I find perfection.
I always seem to find heart shaped rocks on the beach. I now find heart shaped leaves in the bush. The universe is speaking and so I stop and listen, ear to the ground.
I love photographing surfers. They are passionate and fearless. I learn from them, it’s okay to be the same.
Surfers find balance, in balance. A hard act to follow. I’m fine tuning that.
Summer, in my 
A Shared Space 
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