By the second morning out of their ‘safe’ pen AGAIN, they had knocked over pot plants, dug out some bromeliads, destroyed the ground covers and shat all over the verandah. Enough! In my nightie, sitting in the dirt, I sewed a piece of shade cloth to the fence and the gate to a height of about 60cm, chased them all in again and went off to work.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Monday I had spent the previous day moving all the winter clothes to the furthest corner of the wardrobe and inspecting my summer clothes. Spring brings new challenges to our self esteem in the realisation that our bodies are a year older. Where did those bingo arms come from? How did my mother’s cellulite suddenly appear on my thighs? To add to the mix, brilliant sunshine shows off the newest grey highlights kindly provided by nature and children that has been hidden under a beanie for months.
Tuesday is the day our writing group meets, also the third day in a row over 20 degrees C. As I placed my bag on the floor II caught a glimpse of my ‘lizard leg’s and scrabbled around for a tube of hand cream to rub on. While under the table I noticed two sets of toes flashed fresh nail polish and that everyone was wearing sandals.
Summer clothes create their own dilemmas. Nearly all my friends admit to owning black one piece bathers for public beach displays. What about Melbourne Cup Day? Can you get away with wearing your orthopaedic shoes with a new dress with spaghetti straps? In the clothes shops I find myself perusing safe flowery crimplene – I have to slap myself soundly and quickly move away before anyone I know sees me.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Life has accelerated, the spring sunshine must be activating the ‘busy’ molecules.
In the last ten days I have: been helping with house moving, had lunch with visiting friends at Cullen’s, a birthday dinner at the Tav, an afternoon tea at Voyager, received news of a new baby, attended the open day for the 20th anniversary of the Margaret River Community Centre, held the first pizza gathering of the year, attended the farmer’s market, dealt with Telstra (again), walked with the girls, visited a friend with the flu and, sadly, attended a funeral. I have also been at work, made 60 jars of various creams and driven hundreds of kilometres. They are the memorable events. Most were happy ones, some frustrating, and others unbearably sad.
The list of things to do gets longer every day. What has happened to time? Is it really moving faster or is it because the world has become a chaotic and complicated place in which to live? Looking over my list, I can see that I chose to spend time with people in my life I care about. Who cares if the cobwebs still dangle from the ceiling or the bags of sheep poo still haven’t been spread?
Watching the Chilean miners appear from underground after so long, seeing the joy on the faces of their family and friends has given me heart, faith in the way we can come together to support each other in times of need and respect for those valuable connections we share. When I saw the joy on that small boys face as he saw his father after an agonising wait, I remembered that in matters of the heart, time stands still.
Each day I am grateful to wake to the sound of chickens and birdsong.
The views from all the windows are green and at night I can see the stars.
Hide your ironing in the cupboard and enjoy the moment!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
This morning I stood and watched the bees busy in fragrant flowers and thought about the day to come.
The town gathered in a state of shock - the older to attend a familiar ritual with sad resignation, the young for an event not of of their time.
Your friends clung together to scatter petals as random as the emotions that flared in bursts of laughter, sobs and muted words of comfort. The silence between words thrummed with the feelings that brought us together in a tribute of flowers.
You were only nineteen, Grace Jasmine.
I will remember this day each time I smell that delicate scent of the white flowers with your name that grow on my fence.