listening to: Spoon: The Underdog, Bjork, Kay Kyser, Sir Walter Frog, The Bird and the Bee
Wrote this entry a couple of days ago, but have been too busy to post it.
Hope everyone is well. We are on the mend. I still have a bit of a sore throat tonight, but have more energy and am thankful for the gorgeous weather we’ve been having. More walks in the fields with the dogs. Cam has been feeling much better. Visits with friends and family, and plans for more this week. I can feel Spring in the air too. Thank goodness!
I’ll be in touch. This site seems to be behaving itself once again, (knock on wood!)
Here’s what I wrote on Thursday:
A few days ago I started feeling good enough to walk the dogs in the paddocks (fields) adjoining our yard. Saw droppings that I didn’t recognize -being the talented bush tracker that I am now (Well, I DO know what wombat scat looks like)- and told Cam about them. He said it sounded like Kangaroo, which is what I’d suspected. Yesterday, while taking laundry down from the line in the early evening, I happened to look up past the pond when Goldie started barking. Lo and behold, a kangaroo was sitting right past the pond (known here as a dam), staring over at us. WOW! So I scurried the dogs inside, and told Cam to come out with the camera. We didn’t get any new pictures, because the ‘Roos were quite fast as they bounded to the larger pond/dam down the hill. But what a sight to see them along the horizon! I’m glad we watched it rather than waste time trying to get a good shot!
Here is where I first saw them:
The weather has been warming up enough to make things more bearable. I’m still on antibiotics, still have a sore throat, still lethargic, but feeling wonderful in spirit, nonetheless. Although last night I went to bed very early, and very grumpy because I’m tired of being sick!!!
Today, this poem resonated deeply with me:
Starfish
This is what life does. It lets you walk up to
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman
down beside you at the counter who says, Last night,
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?
Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.
And then life suggests that you remember the
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.
Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one
who never had any conditions, the one who waited
you out. This is life’s way of letting you know that
you are lucky. (It won’t give you smart or brave,
so you’ll have to settle for lucky.) Because you
were born at a good time. Because you were able
to listen when people spoke to you. Because you
stopped when you should have and started again.
So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland,
while outside, the starfish drift through the channel,
with smiles on their starry faces as they head
out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.
- Eleanor Lerman
Some more recent pictures. I’ve been snap-happy again:
Our “front yard” :
Our “back yard”:
The large pond/dam at the bottom of the hill. (Just past the property we’re on):
Goldie wandering by the banks of the large pond:
My self portrait, taken in reflection of outside of the studio window. (A bit hard to tell, but the smaller pond is in the background. Because of the drought, water levels are quite low. Last summer there was no water in it at all, but it’s recovered a little this winter.):
Gorgeous irises from Cameron on my bedside windowsill:
Iris detail:
The wonderful moon through the tall eucalyptus trees at dusk:
Here I am painting, in the cheery yellow knit hat that Christine gave to me the other week:
And, I’ve saved the best for last!
The whole family had to try on this fuzzy “dandelion” hat! Tee Hee!:
