She is slender with skin like ebony, smooth and dark. Her eye lashes are naturally long and curled. Her long hair is captive in a netted chignon. Her bilingual skills are evident in her faint French accent each time she says, “attentsheeon”. In a noisy plane, I watch her lean closer to the elderly man and say, “Monsieur, would you like some coffee? Tea?” Her sparkling teeth framed in a smile, floods the small plane with light. He beams back at her. “Tea, thanks, love”, he responds happily. Her light, her aura, is generous. We all share this during a short flight.
The small plane shook and rattled. We are flying into a very strong headwind, punching through big angry clouds. I catch her eye, me from the back, and she in the front. She smiles. I, do, too. Secretly, we both know, we are serene as ducks on a pond, each hiding the anxiety that wells inside. We laugh nervously when saying goodbye. No more words needed. We are safe.
I’ve taught myself to be less anxious on these flights. I focus on taking photographs or visualize my return home.
These are some of the pictures I keep in memory ….
A musk duck trying to look cool while expelling a blast of bubbles when attempting to attract a mate!
Perth Airport, just before I flew out the other day. 
I’ve come to know the Midwest is gorgeous in winter. This hill is on approach to Geraldton.
If you wake early enough, you’ll find frost on desert flowers in the mining region.
And when I return home, it’s time to stop and smell the roses.
No medication can match the effectiveness of these strategies, for me.
Part of the journey was letting go of what I knew and stepping into the unknown. I found it was not a bad place to be!
I’m no longer a nervous traveller. A stormy sky no longer makes me anxious. I’ve learned to trust. It is as big a step, as learning to forgive. I found when you do, you give yourself an amazing gift.
You start to live.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
Sunrise, Esperance Bay, Western Australia
Sunset, The Fascine, Carnarvon, Western Australia
Full moon, Wheatbelt, Western Australia
A cloud of little corellas, home, Western Australia
I woke this morning in cold and frosty Narrogin. It was a challenge to get out of bed but I could not help but feel so blessed.
The sunrise was magnificent over the township. Snuggled deep under covers, I felt I was the only one watching the sun emerge.
I stayed warm in bed, until past sunrise. I knew it was too cold, even for birds.
I then set off to Foxes Lair, took a deep breath while taking off my sunglasses and settled down to the big experience of the ‘here and now’.
I was there with the usual early morning company.
It was interesting to see the change of seasons reflected in nature. The bush is just starting to burst into colour, with striking fronds of flowers.
A little pink, too, here and there.
And, tiny flowers of ground cover.
The dryandra, beautiful but prickly, everywhere.
The honey eaters love this plant. Bees, too, but they were not buzzing today. Perhaps, too cold this morning for them.
The kookaburra emerged from a hole in the tree. It started to chortle. It sounded like a kettle coming up to the boil, before it reached the crescendo that is so typical of its call.
And when it stopped, it looked straight down at me!
The cottage balcony faced forest. This was the view I woke to each day. The sun streamed in through mist. Kookaburras laughed and chortled. A smile travelled across my face, from ear to ear, and warmed me on the inside.
Each morning I rugged up warm and headed out to explore with a grateful heart that delighted in all that I saw.
The pink camellias took my breath away. Large as a man’s palm.
Then there were double camellias. The owner had left several in the cottage for me. Gorgeous!
I loved the white flowers, just as much.
The sunny jonquils bloomed despite the frost.
The white ones shimmered, too.
A clump of these, added colour.
Everywhere I looked, there was beautiful, delicate wattle, signalling winter.
I walked along country roads. Contented. At peace. Empowered. I have choice. This realisation, is freedom.
The wedgetail eagles were everywhere. This was a juvenile. The adult wing tip span can be up to 9 ft across. They are magnificent in flight.
I left the grey and wet of winter in Perth, to winter in the outback. Warm 18 degrees celsius by day and a brrrr 2 degrees at night. The hospitality at one hotel was interesting. “Dinner is from 6-7 pm. Come early so we can go home early!” was a no-fuss welcome. Despite this, the dinner was delicious. 
In the silence, the oneness with nature, was an embrace like no other. 
We enjoyed the huge vistas. We explored and wandered over rocks and gullies. We stumbled upon a field of white quartz. It looked like water had gone through this part with some force. It was stunning.
A fuzzy mauve stain in the red dirt caught my eye from across the road. I walked up to it and found the most exquisite, tiny flowers growing in the harshest country.
I’ve criss-crossed the Wheatbelt, a region of some 155,000 sq km. I’ve been further north east and further east of east, than before. The resilience of folks in farming communities is something that strikes me each time I visit. It must be difficult under circumstances where the pastures are green with rain and then 50 kilometres down the down, they are still waiting for it. People think in terms of community. What can they do, to make a difference. They are quick to minimize the role they play, often with a matter of fact, “Well! that’s what one does!”
Then there was the Kimberley region. Beautiful Kimberley, an area that covers some 422,000 sq km of ruggedness. Broome, is a favourite town but there’s a special place in my heart for Kununurra, a place I want to visit again on holiday. I’ve experienced joy in this town in the company of birds and the excitement of spotting my first freshwater crocodile. There are gorges and ruggedness to explore, and when standing still, blue dragonflies to observe.
I’ve visited the Midwest more frequently than I have ever done in previous years. It is larger area than the Kimberley at 472,000 plus square kilometers. The stunning landscape of the Coral Coast is memorable.
The mining region of the Pilbara, in the heart of Western Australia cover over 500,000 square kilometers. It is harsh, hot, and humbling country. Oh! how I love that red dust! Driving across it in summer was a highlight for me.
And who can forget the South West, nearly 24,000 sq km of beautiful food, wine, trails, forests and coastline.
Last but not least, the Goldfields Esperance region, covers over 770,000 sq km. Esperance is where I spend three consecutive nights each month, so naturally, it is my home away from home.
Curiosity
The gull stood still and watched the tide come in. From the road above, I did the same.
Then the gull then strode out purposefully to meet it.
It seemed to know where to stop. 
It stood still and waited.
The tide came in with bounty. The Pacific Gull knew this. This was time honoured instinct. Honed and practiced. No technology to guide it. It was a beautiful thing to observe. A moment of mind-body connection, for gull, and me.
The sun was fading fast. The wind strong. My eyesight weak. But like him, I set up, waiting for success.
He leaned right back, now almost lying down. He had done this before. The gouges in the sand, his history.
The wind lifted him. Airborne!
But only for a nanosecond. He came down with a thump. His legs flailing before impact.
The wind was not in his favour. But, he did it all over again, and again, and again.
A Shared Space 
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