The words voluminous, ethereal, clouds remind me of her. She was my father’s youngest sister, her memory, forever synonymous with ballroom dancing. My earliest memories are of a black and white photograph with her seated on the floor leaning on a chair, a cloud of dress around her, her profile framed in the hairstyle of the late 1940s. Rita Hayworth comes to mind.
My father always danced across the room in ballroom strides with an invisible partner, when he talked about her. How light she was in step. How beautifully she moved. Grace on air, he would say. He admired her dancing with unabashed pride. She and her husband were the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers of their day. They toured dancing tournaments in Asia and won numerous prizes. I believe they also owned a dancing studio.
I met her only a few times in my lifetime. She was petite, birdlike. A champion ballroom dancer. I know little else about her.
What I do know from my father is that she was a living cloud, who floated across our family horizon with brio.
I did not inherit her agility, her grace, or her posture, so I keep my two left feet firmly on the floor, and let my fingers tap to the music of her memory.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
This is cattle country in the Kimberley region. Huge landscape, bigger cattle stations and dangerous roads where cattle roam freely. At 110 km/hour speed limit, they are a hazard for the novice driver.
A friendly “take care” from the car hire people is usually a good natured warning, “watch out for cattle”.
I particularly love the Brahman cattle. This picture speaks of home to me.
Juxtaposed with the bird life of the Kimberley, cormorants, glossy ibis and the gorgeous brolga, there’s a certain incongruity here. I always feel like I’m straddling two cultures. Ask me which one I love more and I’d never be able to give you an answer.
The brolga is one of my favourite birds. They are large and elegant in movement and flight. To see them dance is unforgettable. Oh! the elegance of each stride!
This time there was even a freshie (freshwater crocodile) or two. The excitement this caused! We nearly stepped backwards on to the highway, much to the annoyance of passing traffic who tooted at us impatiently.
But I love to find the solitary one, like this one, pale ice cream pink.
Some so tiny, they make sand and pebbles seem large.
I love the incongruity of delicate flowers growing among thicket.
While huge sprawling bushes have prongs of flowers that reach out.
I’m not sure what these were, but they were striking among the greenery.
There were swatches of these yellow flowers but it’s easy to see why these two caught my eye.
I stopped my car on the way home for one last picture of the fields of fluro yellow canola that splashed colour, as far as the eye could see.
There is nothing more Kimberley than a landscape of red dust, blue sky and soft, grey-green foliage. To me, these are roads that lead to somewhere special. Always.
The walk to the beach has a warning about crocodiles, so this is not water one enters to swim, but it is beautiful to observe.
The mangroves have the most interesting rocks and stones among the shells. There is no noise here except the call of birds. The sea, it would seem, is also silenced by the beauty of the landscape that it shapes.
I’ve photographed this region before but did not know the importance of what I had seen. My new travelling companion was more knowledgeable and filled me in on the aboriginal history of the region. 
My companion exclaimed excitedly, “Oh! look! shell middens!” I had no idea what middens meant and it was explained to me, this is an area where ancient people lived or stopped for a while. The shells evidence of their presence, long, long ago. 
There were thousands and thousands of shells, bone white in the blazing sun. Ordinarily I would have picked up one or two to bring home. Not this time. I felt I was in the most expensive art gallery and dared not move, in case I broke or moved something special. So we stood for a few moments, in silent respect.
A cloudless sky
A blue rimmed eye
A feathered wing
An open sea, where mermaids sing
The blue of Cable Beach with its white frilly shore
Cowboys in blue jeans, at the rodeo.
On a beach that stretches for 22 kms, I peered through tiny coral windows and found life in minutae is what has added zest to my journey.
I contemplated the fragility of life and the glue that holds it all together.
I reflected on the foundations and layers we create within us, between us and for each other. Do they support or divide?
I found things that spoke to me. Much like life, debris was once perfect and whole and …
still exquisitely beautiful.
We are given life. But … it is a finite serve.
I paused to reflect. What’s my footprint, my legacy, that I leave on shore?
The glory of sunset at Cable Beach is seductive. It is promoted as such and people come to catch their breath.
But I also know the young boab tree at Town Beach, the opposite side of town at Roebuck Bay, is magnificent at sunrise. So in Broome I catch my breath, at least twice a day.
The canola fields are turning gold in the farming Midwest.
This picture captures the colours of the Midwest, so perfectly, from the ground. 
There are expanses of these low growing shrubs, encrusted with tiny flowers growing in the bush.
Beautiful spears of flowers everywhere one looks. 
In this land even a common weed looks beautiful!
There are huge swatches of paper everlasting flowers. Just breathtaking!
Seeing them up close, is seeing perfection.
These purple flowers are scattered among the pinks and whites.
In my garden the bees are busy.
And, roses continue to bloom.
These tiny everlastings were flowers within flowers. Thousands of these roadside.
I thought they were exquisite.
This was a tiny flower. The sand gives some perspective to the size.
Then there were succulents.
Were these past their prime? Still beautiful, I thought.
And carpets of these succulents, too, along the sand hills, ocean side.
The wattle has a distinctive perfume. Like, honey.
Vivid colours in harsh country.
There were thousands of these along the coast too.
This was one of my favourites. There were carpets of these, yes, acres of flowers, but this one caught my eye. It seemed to support a whole colony.
The sun broke through, as it always does, just beyond the Small Boat Harbour, (Carnarvon).
I delighted in the superb drama happening over this little town, quelling my fears of flying home through this and then to weather that was worse in Perth. The flight back was surprisingly calm in the small plane. But there was silence among the 34 passengers when the pilot announced we were going to land in poor weather in 60 km/hour high winds. I know what 28 km/hour winds during landing feels like in this plane. But 60! I closed my eyes and visualized all good things in my life. I found it was not a difficult thing to do. Half an hour from landing I clutched the seat tighter and tighter, while we bounced and rattled. We landed with an almighty thud and a deafening whoomf. Then came the short dash from aircraft to terminal. As soon as we stepped off the plane, it hailed. (Yes, it hurts when it hits one’s face!).
This is the main street. Yes, that’s it folks! Finding a parking spot is always a cinch!
I remember seeing this male zebra finch in the scrub while driving 80 km/hr. My ability to see birds in unexpected places, still amazes me! But like I’ve said before, if you look for it, you find it.
The skies here are awesome. During a storm or …
on a clear day, as Barbra sang, “you can see forever”.
I found this outside the public toilets at Pelican Point, a favourite place for locals to do a bit of kite surfing. It always makes me smile!
This sunset at Back Beach in Bunbury, did, however, salvage the day for me. It was cold. It was wild. It was magnificent.
The storm passed over night. The next day I went to Big Swamp after work. There seemed to be more swamp hens than I’ve ever seen before. I love them! Usually shy, this one was bold and sounded a raucous warning of my presence.
The path to the water is decked with winter colours.
The purple pea flower was prolific winding over shrubs and trees.
I’m not sure what this plant is called but it is unusual. Flowers grow on stalks that are on both sides of the leaf.
A Shared Space 
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