Tag: RDP

Forever autumn

DSCN9211We are mid-way into autumn in the Southern Hemisphere.  There’s a chill in the air in the evenings and early mornings.  There’s a need to seek warmth in another or in memories.  It made me reflect on my life journey, this time, my professional journey.

I have worked with people of all ages.  There is a certain joy that comes from working with little children and promoting joy in parenting and development.  I have worked with troubled teens with behaviours at the pointy end of the pointy end.  Challenging as it was being on 24 hour roster, I worked with the program for six years.  I now work mostly with children and families and as a consultant to my teams.  But, the yearning to work with older adults is always there.

I once worked in a hospital setting where the patients were mostly elderly.  It was confronting work.  There by the grace of God, go I, crossed my mind frequently.  I would see people who worked hard all their life and then struck down with debilitating illness and regret they did not seize the day before this.  The job came about in the most extraordinary circumstances and it was my first foray into a medical setting.  I firmly believe that job changed my perspective on life.  The job was a gift I needed at that time.  Once exposed to the reality of other people’s regret, I did not want to waste a moment of my life anymore.

In Bunbury I woke early and would head to Big Swamp.  I fell in love with the wetlands.  I could no longer go to work without spending just a few minutes here.  I’d head to beaches and bush land every single day.  I started to view the world and my circumstances in a different way.  I started to view myself as a grounded optimist.  All because I found the best healing in nature and where I do my reflections.

Everything just fell away when I would walk silently in the bush or by shore.  The question I would ask myself is, if I knew it was the last five minutes of my life, what would I do?  I found I would have no regrets.  I have loved and have been loved.  I have children that I yearned for since early childhood who are young adults I am so proud of.  I have been able to provide for my family.  Who could ask for more?

So this morning I work up happy.  The chill in the air reminded me, autumn is a time of change, a time for slowing down, a time when nature reminds us that while youth is crisp and forward thinking, age has its advantages, too.  The ‘wrinkles’ of the yesterdays are a comfortable, soft place to land.  The vibrancy of ‘the now’ has the power to make one’s eyes glisten and also glow.  There is freedom in making tomorrow whatever we want it to be, as one steps out lightly on ‘happy feet’.

For me, in this month of birthday, there is also comfort in the knowledge, although a time of profound change, from now on, as I settle deeper into my nut brown skin, I know, I am in a wonderful place, I am in the space of forever autumn.  A space of change.  A space of growth.  A space of acceptance.  And, there’s no other space I’d rather be.

May you, too, find your happy space today and arrive on happy feet.

Until next time

As always

In response to RDP Monday: Foray

Do what you love …

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I love finding tracks in the bush.  Although, not ones like this in Kooljaman, far north of Perth!  I had walked past this area just minutes before and found the track on my way back.  It was one I didn’t follow to see where it went.

It is quite possible I have an irrational fear of snakes.  From toddler years I was taught not to put my hands and feet in places where I could not see what was there.  That wariness remains with me.

I’ve overcome my fear of walking in the bush.  And, I feel safer because I dress like a member of the SWAT team.  Needless to say, with my love for photography and being in the bush, the benefits far outweigh my fashion sense!

There’s a certain urgency that comes with age.  The yearning to experience all there is and best expressed in the dialogue between Charlie Brown and Snoopy:

Charlie Brown once again to Snoopy, “We only live once, Snoopy”.  He responded, “Wrong!  We only die once.  We live every day”.

May you experience life today, as intended.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to RDP – SUNDAY-SNAKE

 

 

It’s time …

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The business is now closed and the new management appear to be doing well as a cafe, just before you hit Bunbury.  I can’t seem to bring myself to visit because the previous shop was one I loved to visit.  It was almost like a big shed with home made produce, local fruit and vegetables and a great place to stop and chat to the staff, usually, older women, they always had a story to share.  I loved buying a particular brand of spicy tomato sauce here that was made by some local woman.  A few years ago when I stopped, to my dismay I found it was their last week.  I was devastated.  With two new service stations before this stop, the business was suffering.  The elderly owner had passed away and his wife was trying to keep the business going.  I wondered what would happen to those older women who always had time to chat.

The business included an emu farm and they were selling the last of the emu eggs.  I bought six and they sit on a side cabinet until Easter morning, then they are the centre piece on my dining table.  They remind me of the shop and it’s a lovely, warm memory.  I loved doing the Easter egg thing with my kids when they were younger but now they are health conscious young adults and don’t eat a lot of processed foods.  So it’s only emu eggs now.

Eggs represent new life.  New beginnings.  A symbol of celebration.  See an egg shell in the bush and it makes one curious.  (Also wary!  Snakes!).

This year Easter brings new meaning.  I am renewed and on a new journey.  I have been caring for my well being.  I feel good!  I feel I have something to offer someone else, other than in my professional life.  The shell has broken.  I’m ready to emerge.  Faltering, for sure, but on my feet and taking steps in the right direction.  Isn’t that eggscellent!  (Sorry, couldn’t resist!).

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

  1. In response to RDP – Saturday:  egg

Busy as …

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Bees are synonymous with being busy.  Yet, we don’t complain because we see the value of what they do in nature.  It is a growing concern they seem to be declining and the impact of this is far reaching.  I don’t know much about bees at all but I do know there are thousands of species.  Bees are interesting creatures.  They can be solitary or live in complex communities.  They are collaborative workers, they know their business and go about it in a focused way.  The solitary bee does not make honey.  They are valued for being pollinators.  They create their own nest and feed their brood.  They are fearsome in the defense of their brood as well.  Hmmm something resonates here!

A friend once wrote me a poem about bees and gave it to me when we parted, saying every time they saw a bee, they would think of me.  I hope they continue to think of me.

The label ‘single mother’ is not a derogatory term in the bee world!  I know it to be so in my world.  When my son was in kindergarten his elderly teacher sent a note home and asked me to come in for an interview.  This was a time soon after my marriage ended and I was working and studying.  She showed me his artwork, and told me she had asked the children to paint the sky.  Every child painted blue.  My son had painted vivid pink, orange and black.  I was puzzled and asked her what was wrong with the art.  She felt at ease to reprimand me and said if I was less busy, he would know the sky is blue.  Incensed by her lack of understanding and her temerity to say this to a parent, I responded, that if she looked at the sky she would know it wasn’t always blue and, looking around at other children’s artwork, it would appear my son knew more than his peers did.

My son’s art came from a place of experience.  I would study between the hours of 4-7am.  When he woke he would sit at my feet and play with blocks and trains while I took a break and reflected with coffee in a room that faced the Eastern sky.  One morning it was absolutely gorgeous.  I drew his attention and pointed silently to the sky.  His brown eyes wide open and mouth agape he whispered in wonder, “Who did that?”  A priceless moment for a mother.  If only the classroom teacher had experienced this with a child!

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to Ragtag Daily Prompt:  Busy

Before the drop

thumb_IMG_0785_1024.jpgI had a friend in Broome and would visit there regularly.  He introduced me to red wine.  He loved good red wine.  And, good food, too.  Actually, he loved the good life.  I soon discovered this drop is all I loved and enjoy it on special occasions.  thumb_IMG_2997_1024.jpg
My roses love a good drop too.  It has been raining for the last two days.  Unfortunately, my elderly gardener sent me a text when I was away asking me should he clear up the garden.  I said yes and did not qualify this. With less than three weeks to the wedding, he has trimmed all the roses.  There’s not a flower in sight!  It made my heart drop into my stomach.  How’s that for a visceral response!DSCN7147
During solitary bush walks, you may not hear a pin drop but you will a gumnut.  A sure sign one is not alone.DSCN8098
I love my garden when it is untidy with leaves that drop from the mulberry tree.  There’s something endearing about it, like a child with tousled hair.  You just want to run your fingers through it.DSCN9249
To have the full moon as back drop is a love story in itself.  I love the way it rises silently and takes one by surprise, and much like a first kiss, leaves one glowing.DSCN9157
I thoroughly enjoyed a rodeo up in Derby last year.  This is my favourite picture from the hundreds I took.  The young bull bucked, there was a moment of oneness between rider and animal, before the drop.  I had the best time that afternoon.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to RDP: Tuesday – Drop

 

 

 

So shall you reap …

There was a time in my life when I was impatient for the weekend.  Weekends were a time for cooking and baking.  I always enjoyed taking food or baked goods in to work for morning tea or meetings, but with frequent travel, this is no longer possible.  I know one day, I will again.

My retirement dream is to live somewhere in the South West of this State and bake cakes and supply them to the local cafe.  That is my Lotto dream!  (Oh! and a live in masseur as well!).458365_406422052703396_1493320481_o.jpgI made this special cake for my future daughter in law.  She had just started dating my son and we surprised her with a dinner for her 21st.  It was a chocolate cake layered with a hazelnut meringue, chocolate ganache and raspberries.  An original!467614_384877168191218_740109333_o.jpg
My daughter went through a phase where she loved cupcakes.  So I made this cupcake tower for her birthday.  Passionfruit/lime, chocolate, lemon curd, orange poppyseed.  They all went down a treat!468340_384877528191182_407982071_o.jpg
A colleague at work was turning 29.  We had a little boy’s themed morning tea for him.  He wanted me to bake a Thomas the Tank Engine cake.  Way too complex for me, so I created this little sweetheart instead.

As a child the themes of caring for children, cooking and playing doctor to my 17 dolls were strong.  It seems I did not have to wait too long.  The journey from childhood to adulthood was short, as is the journey back again.

Nothing much has changed in the interim.  I love being a mother.  I love cooking/baking for others.  And, I love what I do for a living.

The seeds were all sown when young.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to RDP:  Wait

Picture this!

14025650Image:  Mapio.net

Built in the art deco style, this movie theatre was the heart of social life in my hometown for those who loved Hollywood movies.  My mother, of course, was an avid fan of the glitz and glamour.  My father adored Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.  My mother had American pen pals who sent her packages of magazines, from memory, Photoplay and Silver Screen.  She would pour over them before her afternoon siesta.  She never parted with a single magazine.

Empire Talkies was also a place where many teens experienced their first kiss.  You knew who was on a date when you saw them choose the back row.  Upstairs was even more private with individual booths.  I can remember the twentysomethings avoiding the younger crowd’s gaze when coming down the stairs!  The movie would be shown all week.  Western cowboy movies were always a big hit, so was any movie with Elvis in it.

My sister was a huge fan of The Beatles.  When they came to India my parents had to keep close watch on her because they thought she would take off to try and meet them in the far north!  When the movie ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ was released she pleaded with the manager to give her one of the movie posters which she cherished.  She watched the movie all week for every session.  I think he only relented to get rid of her!

I, too, love movies but unlike my mother, I’m a fan of only a few Hollywood movies.  My favourite picture of all time is Babette’s Feast.  A movie of generosity of spirit.  I love it more each time I watch it.  Sitting on a blanket under stars watching movies with pizza and wine during the Perth Festival is a fond memory with a friend.  Days I would love to experience again.

The beautiful movie theatre no longer exists.  Built by a prominent Bollywood acting family considered ‘acting royalty’, it is a crumbled ruin.  It saddens me to know this.  Many a teenage love story would start with “Remember when we went to Empire ….”.  The building may have been crushed by time, hopefully, memories last longer.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to Ragtag Daily Prompt:  Picture

Ah! April!

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April is a month of celebration in my family.  We have two family birthdays, including mine, and I have several friends who celebrate a birthday this month too.  Three of whom celebrate a birthday on the same day as me.

I also got married in April.  I’m grateful I met my husband and we had a family.  We also enjoy a good relationship and have been able to co-parent without drama.  He is a good father to our children and they love and respect him.  I still appreciate his humor, at least, most of the time!  One cannot ask for more.

I survived a major traffic accident in April, many years ago, and given a new lease on life.  It is something I have written about in another post because it changed my life in many ways.  Years later, when it gets cooler, my movements are slower when I recall the accident in pain.  The upside is I was given a financial compensation that helped me buy my first home in the days when it was almost unheard of for a single woman to get a mortgage.

April is often a month of chocolates! What’s not to love about this!

For those in the Northern Hemisphere, April may signal spring.  For us in the Southern Hemisphere, it is autumn.  A time to look forward to the new.

Easter often comes around in April.  For those who celebrate Easter, it is a time to experience reflection, renewal and hope.

It starts getting cooler in the Southern Hemisphere around this time of year.  I always seem to feel the first chill in the Wheatbelt where the horizon hides nothing and space takes charge.  I know how beautiful it can be at dawn and I rug up and head out to get a photograph or two.  It is a time when I practice what I preach.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

 

In the aftermath …

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A life
like a heartbeat, or a pulse
gathers momentum
crosses the line
that no longer divides
undeterred
the power
that unstoppable equalizer
flattens without discrimination
leaving an indelible mark
And, in the aftermath
a message, recycled
what does not kill
makes you stronger,
With love
Cyclone Michael

a dawn bird

In response to Ragtag Daily Prompt:  cyclone

 

Hungry, for life

thumb_IMG_1112_1024.jpgThis 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.thumb_IMG_4479_1024.jpgI 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.thumb_IMG_2581_1024.jpg
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.thumb_IMG_3542_1024.jpg
The telltale signs of where the tide has been has made me accept transiency for the joy of the moment.thumb_IMG_1733_1024.jpg
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

Before they met …

She was seated across the Friday din
watched him take a thirsty swig
coiled around the stubbie
his fingers, lean and slim
the stubborn red dirt
tattooed under nails,
with surgical precision
His shoulders broad,
with a hint of casualness
two buttons undone at chest
sleeves rolled up, uneven
blue green veins mapped on skin
He caught her glance
balanced it
until the fuse was lit
then he scanned into memory
a treasure chest, to be raided privately
the miscellany, the incongruity of her presence
seated silently, ignoring all
He observed her intermittently
as fingers skimmed keys like a breeze
he took it all in
there was nothing to misread
no gold, no diamonds,
just a single pearl clasped in silver,
in the hollow of her neck
like a third eye, it signalled
for her, there was no one else there, but him

a dawn bird

 

Laundry day

This is an early memory of childhood.

Every Tuesday my mother would sit in the front room, an area we called the verandah because of its latticed ‘windows’.  She would sit with a pad and pen and tick off a list.  Sheets, pillowslips, shirts, pants, school uniforms with the pleats neatly pressed.  The edges sharp enough to slash silk.  The linen was whiter than white, crisp and lightly starched.  We always had way too much linen.  My mother would insist the sheets were changed twice a day.  The afternoon siesta was mandatory for all.  And, sheets had to be white, the coolest she thought for hot Indian summers.  The clothing was discreetly marked in a corner with indelible ink. The ironing was done in an iron iron!  It had a top that flipped back, filled with coal and then used on the clothes.  No electricity!  There were no sprays or softeners.  Clothes were hammered over rocks and yet never ruined.

The elderly woman would arrive with her grandson.  He rode alongside her with the laundry box strapped to his bike.  She would sit silently as my mother would go through the clothes that were returned, ticking off her list.  When my mother finished, the elderly woman would sniff her disdain at the need for inventory.

We never lost a piece of clothing.  Ever.

As I write this, the memory of laundry day is vivid.  The child in me also remembers the dirty laundry.

My relationship with my mother was fraught with struggle. Those who knew and loved her and enjoyed her largesse would tut tut at my indiscretion airing this piece of dirty laundry.

The sadness for me is that my father died when I was young.  He never got to see me as an adult.  My mother did.  And, through the lens of disappointment.

If we had to do it all over again, it would be a rewind of the past.  She would still be who she was.  I would still be me.  And, I’m okay with that.  I know my father would be okay with that too.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird