Category Archives: Writing

Mum’s Taxi Revisits Mt Penang Gardens, North of Sydney.

It’s been quite awhile since you’ve heard a peep let alone a loud beep from Mum’s Taxi (AKA the Tutu Taxi). Being in lockdown for the last almost three months and throughout the last 18 months, I’ve literally been able to hang up my keys, stay in my pyjamas and write to my heart’s content. As blissful as that might sound for any writer, writing in lockdown is quite different to being a poet ensconced in your ivory tower. So, it was hardly no prison cell and I was allowed outside for exercise and could go walking along the beach, bushwalking or visit my friend in his social bubble. However, it’s not the same when park benches are covered in red tape because you’re not allowed to sit down, everyone’s wearing masks unless they’re exercising, and you have to QR code to enterjust about anywhere. So, it was with a mixture of jubilation, trepidation and continued isolation, that the people of Greater Sydney welcomed Freedom Day a few weeks ago.

Anyway, on Tuesday our daughter told me I was driving her up to get eyelash extensions. She paid for them. I wasn’t going to spend out money on that. I’ve never been a fan of fake eyelashes. However, she wears them for ballet concerts, competitions etc and so I guess once you’ve crossed that bridge, it makes more sense.

However, what she didn’t tell me was how long it was going to take. Now, I should’ve been prepared to hang round for eternity. After all, isn’t that what parents do for their kids? Wait?!! I’m not into all this cosmetic beauty stuff and how it all works. However, I did take a book, my journal and regretted not taking my SLR and just having the camera on my phone.

I started walking around looking for a park bench in the shade to read my book. By the way, I was reading Julia Baird’s: Phosphorescence: On awe, wonder and things that sustain you when the world goes dark. It’s an absolutely brilliant book, and what I’d describe as a “slow read”. I wanted to savour and enjoy almost each and every word. So, it’s taken me a very long time to finish it. Indeed, I started reading it in September last year. Honestly I thought it had been a year or even three. Here’s one great quote from the book:

Life is tempestuous and life is precious, and recognising that those two things are twinned is part of the secret of the truly phosphorescent.”

Julia Baird

There wasn’t much left to read, and I seemed to finish it off in about an hour. Of course, there was that great sense of regret you have when you finish a book you love and wave goodbye to your new best friend. Although I immediately decided I was going to start back at the beginning again. I really want to etch this book into my psyche and remember it all. It’s filled with stories and quotes from numerous thinkers and poets and it’s so very me. It’s like exploring a fascinating and exhilarating world, and I have also made a note to self to head out on a night kayak run with my husband and experience the Phosphorescence first hand for myself.

After finishing my book, I walked around the gardens regretting I hadn’t bought my digital SLR. However, the camera on my phone didn’t do too bad a job. Yet at the same time, I wondering whether photographing wildflowers in a man-made garden really counted, especially after going on some magnificent bushwalks and photographing the wildflowers actually in situ and in the wild. Isn’t it just like photographing lions in the zoo rather than heading off to Africa? The photos still look good. Indeed, they probably look a lot better, but they’re simply not the same.

Anyway, while I was there reading my book, I glanced up and noticed what appeared to be a class or two of young kids running down a steep, small grassy hill. They were having an absolute ball, and there is something so liberating about running fast down a grassy hill as a young child which almost feels like flying and you’re about to take off. Apparently, when I told friend about this my face was so animated that he asked me what childhood memories it brought back. There wasn’t anything specific and I can’t remember a lot of hills, but the exhilaration is still with me and perhaps I should sneak in there after dark and let myself go.

Reading my book and watching all those kids running must’ve done my head in, because yours truly who has been to this park a couple of times before, got lost and couldn’t find the exit. Indeed, I found myself stuck inside a maze. This is what happens when you’re exploring man-made garden instead of the bush. The bush is simple. You go in. You come out. Well, it is where I’ve been going bushwalking but these are hardly complicated hikes. Of course, I blame lockdown for this. So many everyday kills have been neglected and have rusted away. Indeed, I’m sure four months of solid repetitive research and writing at home has literally rewired my brain and done all sorts to my neuropathways. Indeed, while being so focused on a lockdown project so I’d have something to show for all that time might actually prove a mixed blessing.

Anyway, two hours later, my phone rang and I was summonsed to pick her up. We were going to go for a bushwalk together, however, it was now raining and so we raided a local bakery and had lunch in the car looking out onto the beach.

My daughter’s glasses on the dashboard looking out across our local beach.

And yes, the eyelashes certainly looked spectacular. Not completely ridiculous either, but not the sort of thing a hibernating bear requires. I’m actually looking forward to going to the hairdresser next week, and guess who is coming with me…

Looking out at the beach through the rainy windscreen while eating our lunch.

Have you been on any good walks recently or read any book books? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

Best wishes,

Rowena

The Morning After – Friday Fictioneers

“Forget a Hail Mary, Mike. Make that a Bloody Mary, with an extra shot of Vodka.”

“Hair of the dog, eh Meg? You okay?” Tim the barman asked. Bloody Marys were a well-known hangover cure. Meg was sous chef at their two hat restaurant, and she’d been on a bender. She knew he knew, but neither of them said a word. However, she’d never hit the bottle this early before, and it wasn’t going to happen on his watch. He left out the vodka, made a Virgin Mary to go, and grabbed his keys. “Meg, I’m taking you home.”

…..

100 words

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields https://rochellewisoff.com/ PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wishoff Every week we write up to 100 words to a photo prompt, and we’d love you to join us.

Best wihes,

Rowena

 

Weekend Coffee Share – 18th October, 2021.

Welcome to A Belated Weekend Coffee Share!

How has your week been? I hope you’ve had a good one, and there still might be some wind in your metaphorical sails to make it all the way to my place for your preferred beverage and a slice of Apple & Mulberry Pie with home made custard. You could do worse, although our son seems to prefer the Sara Lea variety himself. Obviously, he has no taste.

It’s now been a week since Greater Sydney had their Freedom Day, and had our restrictions eased. NSW has now reached an 80% vaccination rate and we’ve been allowed further freedoms – especially the vaccinated. Today, cases were down to 259, which is a big improvement, although they’re expecting cases to surge with opening up. In practical terms, it hasn’t made a huge difference to me because I’m still avoiding public places, crowds, people who aren’t vaccinated. That doesn’t leave a lot of scope. However, I have a few friends in the same boat and so I’ve been seeing them. I am trying to get down to Sydney to see my parents. That ideally means the four of us and the two of them, which is much more logistically challenging than I’d thought. So it hasn’t happened yet.

However, although we haven’t got straight back into it, opening up and returning to a state of relative quasi norm has helped. Things are starting to make more sense. At the very least, dance has returned to the studio which has really freed us up. People are starting meet up again and are less isolated. You can walk out your front door and not feel that Big Brother is watching you. It is a huge relief, although fast forward a week or two and let’s see how the case numbers and severity stack up. I am officially in “watch and see mode”.

The table was all ready for entertaining, but the weather had other ideas.

I was all poised to invite friends over for coffee last week on the very first day we opened up, and put the new table into action. However, the weather had other ideas and it rained for much of last week, which isn’t much good for an outdoor table, and the wind was also against us. However, yesterday a friend phoned up and had cupcakes and everything finally came together and we were able to launch the new table. Another two friends came over today, and we shared a few of yesterday’s left over cupcakes and an Apple and Mulberry Pie made from her homegrown mulberries. I’m quite well-known for turning something healthy into a fattening, unhealthy delight. However, “je ne regrette rien!”

On Saturday afternoon, Geoff and I ventured out to see whether a stretch of budding Flannel Flowers we saw at least a month ago had flowered. Sure enough, they had. However, it was getting late in the day, and they were closing up their pretty faces and nodded off for the day. So, we returned yesterday earlier in the day and they were just magical. Their faces were fully opened and just waiting to meet my camera lens. I wrote all about it here:

https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2021/10/18/floating-with-the-flannel-flowers/

I had a bit of a social experiment on Saturday after being challenged to go without screens for 24 hours one day this week. Considering I was halfway through the day at this point, I thought I’d give it a go. This screen-free existence excluded my phone, TV, computer but it didn’t mention anything about cameras that weren’t part of phones. So, photographing the flannel flowers was allowed. As a social experiment, we were asked to be conscious of our experience. I’m not one who lives on their phone, and I certainly don’t respond to every “ting”. However, there we were out in the bush, and the phone tinged. I thought it might be one of the kids, and so I had to check the phone. A friend was asking if I wanted to go for a walk. So, I felt I needed to give a quick reply. I felt caring for others was more important than rigidly sticking to the rules. Surely, 30 seconds out couldn’t do too much harm?!! Besides, not relying to a message could set off panic stations and launch a search party given my health situation and us being in Covid lockdown for so long. Going off the grid is a solid warning sign of troubled waters. Anyway, I kept going. Made dinner and decided just to ignore the TV, which my husband was watching. However, then “Letters and Numbers” came on and my husband and son were both watching in and nutting things out. Was it more important to stick to my guns, or connect with my family? Well, I sort of joined in just a little bit…just out of the very corner of my eye. However, next up was Dambusters – a documentary series about Britain’s WWII bomber pilots using these new bouncing bombs to blow up the German dams of the Ruhr region. I couldn’t miss this. So, once again I’d failed the test and proven myself of little willpower, but dare I say “flexible”, “accommodating”. However, I didn’t utrn my computer on for a good 24 -30 hours so I’m pleased I pulled that off. That, too, was probably my greatest challenge, because I sit on here for much of the day doing my writing and research. I don’t use my phone very often, and don’t watch much TV either. And what did I do instead? I saw all the stuff that had piled up around the house and cleaned and sorted some of it out.

Polish Pilots

I’ve been making really good progress with my research into the Polish pilots. I am currently reading Adam Zamoyski’s: The Forgotten Few: The Polish Airforce in WWII. I’ve flicked through it before and just read what I needed, but decided to read through it to soak up the full story beyond just my friend’s dad who served as a bomber pilot and later instructor. I have also been thinking what it means to be in exile like Roland’s dad, the Polish people and so many others escaping pat-war Europe, and troubles ever since. I also realized there are other points in time where we are also exiled, most notably I thought for the people who are left by their partners and simply told they want a divorce and to get out. Especially when kids are involved, that can also be an exile. The end of your world as you know it and absolutely devastating. I haven’t been through that myself, but it doesn’t mean I do not care.

Lastly, I did my first piece of flash fiction (100 words or less) in awhile last week. Inspired by my Polish research, I wrote; “The Woman in Kracow” who has a major life decision to make and has returned to her father’s grave in Kracow to seek his advice and attempt to connect with her Polish heritage when she was born in the UK. Hard to convey all of this in only 100 words, but the idea is that her mother was English and she doesn’t really relate to her father’s Polish roots. Anyway, here’s the link: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2021/10/14/the-woman-of-kracow-friday-fictioneers-14th-october-2021/

Humph. I’m now wondering whether I should’ve called it: “A Woman in Kracow”?

I’ll think it over.

Anyway, that’s about it for this week. I hope you’ve had a good week.

Meanwhile, you might like to join us over at the Weekend Coffee Share, which is hosted by Natalie the Explorer https://natalietheexplorer.home.blog/

Best wishes,

Rowena

The Woman of Kracow – Friday Fictioneers 14th October, 2021.

Should she stay, or should she go?

Pregnant, Alicja had flown from London to Kracow to consult her dead father. An intense man, he’d been a Polish fighter pilot in the famous Kosciusko 303 squadron. After years in exile, the iron curtain had lifted, and he’d died in his beloved Kracow. Thoroughly English, Alicja was a stranger here. Yet, despite longing to be plain “Alice”, she still held onto the Polish spelling.

Strolling through Main Square, she didn’t see the oncoming tram. However, an invisible force shoved her to safety.

“Papa! Papa!”

Somehow, she would stay.

Yet, could she?

…………

100 words

Four years ago, I met Roland in our local bookshop. His father was a Polish bomber plot in WWII, and he came from near Kracow which somehow managed to survive the war without being bombed to smithereens. I have been helping Roland research his father’s story and being in distant Australia, I decided to visit Kracow via Google Earth the other night. It was exquisite. Have you been there? It’s definitely on my bucket list. an interesting aspect to this research is that my Great Great grandmother was born in what went on to become Poland and she was till alive when my mum was a child. I looked up the village she came from some time ago, and didn’t relate to it at all. Meanwhile, I am hoping to find a bakery which makes Makowiec (Poppy Seed Roll). Or, I might have to try baking it myself. Soon, I’ll have to start calling myself Rowski!

Meanwhile, I have recently started a second blog, where I’m exploring English-Australian novelist Ethel Turner, who wrote the classic “Seven Little Australians”. However, so far I’ve been showcasing some of her other writing. Here’s the link:

https://teawithethelturner.com/

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields at https://rochellewisoff.com/ This week’s photo prompt has been provided by PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

Best wishes,

Rowena

Weekend Coffee Share – Freedom Day 11th October, 2021.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

I don’t know whether I should be shouting: “Hip Hip Hooray” today, or in mourning. Today, Great Sydney finally came out of its extensive 106 day lockdown now that we’ve reached a vaccination rate of 70%. After a peak of 1603 on September 10, we were down to 496 cases today. That’s not a perfect world, and not yet a safe space for vulnerable people like myself to enter yet. I was about to say it offers hope, but it could also demonstrate reckless abandon after being careful for so long. It’s interesting too to see where people head as soon as they break out? Is is to see friends and family they’re been shut away from for so long? I can’t blame people for possibly wanting to get to the hairdresser first. I was planning to have at least a friend over to christen the new table today, but of course, it rained and being an outdoor table, that’s not much fun unless you’re a woolly Border Collie with thick, protective coat. For those of you who still remember Bilbo, he was a great one for standing out in the rain and getting soaking wet.

Well, I know there’s been a lot of table talk going on around here, but this week I’m proud to announce that the table has been sanded back, restored and in situ. I have well and really rung the brass bell over that, as it would’ve been easier to move heaven and earth. I’m sure those of you with real homes can testify to that as well. That a seemingly easy decision to put a table out the front can require so much work, negotiation, acceptance and maybe even grief! Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to leave alone and just be able todo what I want, when I want and not have to consult ANYBODY – or have someone else scuttle my plans, especially due to a lack of planning on their part. (Speaking of which I’ve had two pairs of ballet pointe shoes and a sewing basket left beside my chair. One of the downsides about coming out of lockdown, is that the pointe shoes needed to be replaced. However, one pair is heading back to the ballerina to do herself. BTW She’s very excited because she managed to get a Billie Eilish ticket today).

You can read more about the table here: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2021/10/09/table-talk-table-done/

Tis week, I slowed down over at my new blog: “Tea With Ethel Turner” this week with only adding one post. However, it was a post that meant a lot to me. I was reading her somewhat autobiographical novel, Three Little Maids, when almost at the end I found what I’ve dubbed: “A Writer’s Prayer”. Through this prayer, Dolly (who is said to represent Ethel Turner) tells her sister how she prayed to get a book published and that her calling might be to write books that “do some good”. As a writer with the same heart-felt desire in mind, it meant the world to me and perhaps you would love it too: https://teawithethelturner.com/2021/10/07/a-writers-prayer-ethel-turner/

By the way, I had quite a few technical issues with the new blog, and ended up changing format to sort them out. So, I apologise if you had any difficulties last week.

The other thing I’ve been working on lately, is the story of my friend’s father who was a Polish Bomber Pilot serving in the UK during WWII. It’s been my friend’s quest to write a book about his father’s experiences of escaping Poland and into Romania where he was interred, and smuggled out into France where he served before arriving in England. Roland’s father never taught his children Polish, and unfortunately the Polish pilot’s records in England are all in Polish. So it’s been a beast to sort anything out. Google translate has helped with clarifying online resources, but otherwise its a slow and laborious process. I had a bit of a breakthrough this week, when I found a pdf in Polish online. It was written by one of his Dad’s friends an was a story of the “Three Muskateers”. It even ad a few pages just about Roland’s dad. It was wonderful, except it was all in Polish. So, I tried a little experiment. I typed up the Polish and pasted it into Google translate. It’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. Well, it was like magic. There really was a story behind all those words which made absolutely no sense to me. Indeed, I thought the start of the story was very touching. There is this old Polish man with all the photos taken in his entire lifetime contained in a biscuit tin his cousin brought back from England. It was incredibly poignant but also pretty heart wrenching to all the photos of a lifetime can fit into one biscuit tin. It’s nothing for me to take 200 photos in a day. However, it would do me good to put the most precious ones in a tin so I can see the the trees. By having so many photos, we might as well have none in a way.

Anyway, who would’ve thought I’d be typing up Polish like that? In some ways my life feels incredibly random, and yet my insatiable curiosity won’t just let me settle with a fragment of such a good story even when I’m immersed in so many other gripping stories pursuing Ethel Turner and my WWI stories. I’m not going to be very good at interacting with people about the mundane realities of daily life if I ever make it fully out of isolation!

So, how are are things for you? Have you had a good week? I sure hope so!

Meanwhile, you might like to join us over at the Weekend Coffee Share, which is hosted by Natalie the Explorer https://natalietheexplorer.home.blog/

Best wishes,

Rowena

Launching New Blog – Tea With Ethel Turner.

Last week , I launched a new blog – Tea With Ethel Turner – and I’d love you to come over and and hopefully follow me over there as well.

Ethel Turner is such an inspiration. Best known for her 1894 classic: Seven Little Australians, she wrote 40 novels for young adults, diaries, and edited children’s pages in a range of publications. Obviously, she was a very prolific writer, and I doubt she ever suffered from writer’s block for long.

It’s also worth noting that Ethel Turner wrote with a view of having her work published and read widely. Unlike so many writers, her work didn’t spend years in her bottom drawer. Indeed, even when she was at school, she and her older sister produced a rival school newspaper after her work had been rejected.

Then, as time went by and she was editing the Sunbeams pages in the Sun newspaper, it was Ethel doing the rejecting and lamenting a lack of space to publish the works of more of her young contributors. She also encouraged young children to write and gave them writing advice as well as broadening their general knowledge and exposure to literary classics. It also seems she was trying to build a new and better world after the horrors of the Great War, and these children were that future.

Above: Ethel with her older sister Lillian.

So, bearing all that in mind, I had enough material and inspiration to sink a battleship, and I felt she deserved her own bubble, and Beyond the Flow should remain my own space. That as much as I revere and admire Ethel Turner, I didn’t want to become her alone. I still have such a diverse range of other writing interests.

Here are links to my posts so far:

Ethel Turner enjoying her chair in the sun at home 1915.

Meanwhile, now that I’ve launched into this, I can’t help wondering what I’ve got myself into. Sure, I’ve unearthed a a veritable treasure trove, but I’d only read two of her books, and barely stuck my nose into her biography by AT Yarwood: From A Chair in the Sun and a complication of her diary entries by her grand-daughter, Philippa Poole. What was I thinking? Yet, I’ve also been working incredibly hard. I’ve read years worth of her “Chief Sunbeamer” columns as well as numerous press interviews and reviews. The advantage of blogging is that you can in effect publish as you go, and you can also correct any mistakes, embellish here and there before it’s set in stone in print. I am also a firm believer in collaborative research, especially when it comes to such an superlative shaper of Australian literature, culture and young minds. She is too big for one mind.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts and hope you might join me on this exciting journey of discovery.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Weekend Coffee Share!

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

How are you? I hope you are doing well. This week, I’m able to offer you a slice of yellow sponge cake complete with jam, cream and fresh strawberries and blueberries. It’s all rather delectable, even if I did make it myself. Meanwhile, no doubt you’re wondering why it’s yellow. Well, I’d run out of cornflour and my husband had already does a lengthy trip to the shops, and so I used custard powder. It made a slightly difference to the taste, but it rose perfectly and the texture was fine, although with a few minutes less in the oven, it would’ve been perfect.

Well, yesterday marked three months in lockdown, and I’m pretty sure this week marked a turning point for people’s sanity. I won’t get into the details. Let’s just say there was tension in the air and it wasn’t just at our place. I sat in on a webinar with Sydney University and they’re saying that people have been feeling more tired during lockdown. That certain describes us. I’m feeling like a bear curled up snugly in its cave.

However, fortunately hope is in sight – what’s been heralded as “Freedom Day”. That’s set for the 11th of October – three weeks away. It’s going to be bigger than the end of WWII when the Dancing Man was photographed celebrating in Sydney’s Martin Place. Well, our beloved NSW State Premier Gladys is thankfully warning people no to go crazy, and the unvaccinated are in a league of their own unless they have medical exemption and the requirements for that are pretty stringent. The other thing our happy would be revellers might not have heard is that covid cases in our hospitals are still increasing and they’re expecting to reach capacity around the time we break out. It’s been challenging in the reporting of the covid crisis, but now more than ever we need to listen out to the small, quiet voice that’s asking questions and challenging the status quo. This could well be our scientific community. Someone with a more educated and informed opinion.

Anyway, I launched anew blog last week and I was actually intending to write a post from there this week, but I’ve had a major distraction which I’ll get onto shortly.

For a few weeks now, I’ve been mentioning my emerging obsession with English-Australian author, Ethel Turner, who is best known for her 1894 novel – Seven Little Australians. Well, I’ve been thinking about what to do with my research and how to progress it, and I decided to start off with a blog: Tea With Ethel Turner. Aside from having written these coffee share posts for about eight years, cups. f my grandmother’s had special, much treasured cupboards where they lovingly kept their “old ladies” as I think of them. Visitors were asked to choose a cup and family generally had their favourites and my dad’s mum used to point out who drank from what while I was choosing mine out. It was in its own way our own variation on the tea ceremony.

Anyway, having tea with Ethel Turner seems like a good idea. I can’t actually have tea at home with anyone outside the family atm unless there are compassionate circumstances, or I’m part of their singles bubble (which does apply to my 76 year of buddy, Roland). So, having tea with Ethel Turner at the moment isn’t quite as crazy as it sounds and at east it’s “allowed” within tightest interpretation of our covid restrictions.

So far, I’ve had two posts and a third is almost done. Here are the links and I’d really appreciate your support. It’s a bit daunting starting a new blog, when Beyond the Flow is up and running and it took quite a lot for it to start kicking over. However, I’m not starting from scratch in a way because hopefully it will attract some of my readers here.

So, here are the links:

As if I wasn’t researching enough with all of that, received a message which has taken me off to WWII and the escape of the Polish pilots into Romania, into France and into Britain. Four years ago, I met a Polish-English gentleman, Roland Chorazy, whose father Edward Chorazy, had been a bomber pilot during WWII. Roland and I met in our local independent bookshop where he was enquiring about books to research his father. As you know, I’m right into history research and have been researching WWI and we started to chat and agreed to meet for coffee. We’ve been having coffee once a week now virtually ever since.

Researching Roland’s father’s wartime service has been incredibly difficult. Firstly, there’s the usual thing of parents saying very little or not quite knowing how all the threads come together. In this instance, Poland was closed off for so many years and Roland wasn’t aught Polish growing up for this reason, and it was probably something that grieved his father deeply. There was obviously a point of no return under communism and finding a new home was the only option for a very long time.

So, already you have a research rift between Poland and Australia both in terms of language and communication. Then, it turns out that the Polish pilots service records in England are in Polish so future generations growing up in English-speaking countries can’t understand them. When you think about the outstanding contribution the Polish pilots made to the British war effort, this is obviously quite an oversight and a slap in the face.

However, thanks to the Internet, connections are being made. I have been contacted by a family who met Roland’s father while they were staying at a hotel in Blackpool, along with the best man at his wedding, Alojzy Dreja. He’s sent through a photo. Meanwhile, I found a post by an English woman whose mother had been friends with Alojzy Dreja and she posted a letter he’d written and two beautiful hand-painted cards. You can read her posts here:

Anyway, this has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share is hosted by Natalie the Explorer https://natalietheexplorer.home.blog/

Best wishes,

Rowena

Weekend Coffee Share -19th September, 2021.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

How are you? I hope you have had a great week and that all your stars are aligning. I thought that sounded better than having all your ducks lined up, which really makes them an easy target. There are no worries about me on that front. My ducks were rogue years ago, and there’s not a chance of ever getting them all lined up lose to the same location.

Path through the wildflowers

know I keep updating you every week about how long we’ve been in lockdown. We’re now just a week shy of three months and no end in sight. Our state premier is raving on about vaccination rates and getting jabs in arms, and yet the infection rates are still over 1000 per day. She’s also talking about opening up, especially for people who are double-vaccinated. This has resulted in talk of a vaccine passport. This hasn’t gone down well in some quarters, especially in religious organizations. They don’t want to refuse entry to anybody who has not been vaccinated. Yet, at the same time, they seem quite happy to exclude people with disability and chronic health conditions who can’t risk catching covid. After all, the vaccine itself isn’t 100% effective and we still need to wear masks and social distance especially in an indoor community setting.

Patonga from the Warrah Lookout

While we’re on the subject, I also want to point out that while our government prioritised vaccination for adults with disability and chronic health conditions, it hasn’t done the same for teenagers when they became eligible recently. It just goes to show me how little people consider our needs. We’re invisible. Anyway, I rattled a few cages and our kids were vaccinated with Pfizer on Friday and it all went well. However, after having to agitate to get our kids vaccinated, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anti-vaxers.

Egg and Bacon

All of this covid stuff can really do your head in, and I realized I wasn’t doing so well. So, today Geoff and I drove to the Warrah Trig trail and walked to the lookout. The sign said that it was only 500 metres away. However, what it didn’t mention was all the steep stairs and vertical climbing coming back up, which should come into the equation somewhere. Geoff wasn’t too sure I was going to make it back up, but I figured I’d be okay if I took it slowly and kept stopping. So, we certainly didn’t lock the fastest track time but I did clock up 2,237 steps. You can read more about it here: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2021/09/20/wildflower-walk-to-warrah-lookout-greater-sydney/

Grevillea

On Thursday, I submitted my entry for the SBS Emerging Writers’ Competition. That was a massive effort. I obviously can’t say too much about it. However, your contribution needed to be less than 2000 words on the theme of living between two worlds. SBS is our multi-cultural TV station. So, the theme naturally leans towards living in between two racial cultures. It’s very tempting to go into it further but you’ll have to wait. Suffice to say I’ve been working on my entry on and off for the last month and with a day to go was advised to cut back on detail. So, I cut that out but in the process, the whole story seemed to fall apart and I wondered whether I would have it all stitched back up together again in time. There were no guarantees. however, gradually I felt it coming together and before I knew it I was on the homeward strait adrenalin pumping and feeling pretty chuffed by my efforts. I read it and read it and re-read and it felt like the words were swimming around inside my eyeballs. I also felt tired and was concerned I no longer had the focus to pick up mistakes. I don’t know about you, but I’m not a huge believer in editing your own work. You see things that aren’t there and gloss over things that are. Have you found that? Well, anyway, time was running out and so I had to press send and be done with it. No more fiddling or bristling around. It was now a done deal. Now, I’m onto the prayer part of that journey.

Lastly, I’ve been getting right into Australian author, Ethel Turner who wrote Seven Little Australians lately. At the moment, I’m reading through her diary and found a list of poems she had memorised. Among them, was Matthew Arnold’s Self-Dependence which I’ve posted here: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2021/09/18/poetry-memorised-by-ethel-turner-self-dependence-mathew-arnold/ In this post, I also touched on how I’ve turned to Ethel Turner as a mentor. There will be a lot more where that came from, and I’m actually considering setting up another blog.

Well, that brings me to the end of another week. A friend very kindly popped over on a rescue mission. I was feeling like blowing things up yesterday. So, she brought us some muffins, biscuits and a lot of love. It was wonderful and much appreciated. I hope you are doing okay and I’m thinking of you.

Anyway, this has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share is hosted by Natalie the Explorer https://natalietheexplorer.home.blog/

Love and best wishes,

Rowena

Poetry Memorised By Ethel Turner: Self-Dependence – Mathew Arnold

Tonight, I’ve been reading through Ethel Turner’s diary. You could say I’ve become totally obsessed by this incredible author of Seven Little Australians, and around 39 other novels written for children and young adults. Ethel Turner also had a passion for educating and mentoring young Australians through children’s pages in a number of publications. I don’t believe this is a quote, but if you want to be like Rome, you have to act like Rome. That’s another reason why I’m ploughing the depths I’ve never aspired to write a novel. Poetry, flash fiction and possibly the short story are more my forte. I also have fits and starts at writing a diary. However, I don’t just write a few lines – a bare skeleton of what’s happened. Rather, my entries are far more voluminous and I’m pouring my heart out onto the page. It also means I don’t necessarily write that often in my diary. I don’t have the time, and a simple notebook hardly has the space. I could fill one book in a sitting some days.

Anyway, aside from her success as a published author and journalist, I also appreciate Ethel Turner’s perceptive insight into people, the human condition and the ups and downs of life. Even more than a hundred s later, her insights and observations are just as true to life now as they were then.

So, if I want to write and be published like Ethel Turner, I need to do what she did. Although she didn’t have a formal university education, it seems she developed her own educational program which not only included extensive reading, she also actively worked to maintain her maths to the matriculation levels she’d achieved. Indeed, after her beloved friend Annie Christian passed away, she seemed to find comfort in doing quadratic equations. I’m not going to go that far to keep up with her, but I am going to chase up the list of poems she memorised.

So, in sharing this poem with you, I’m not sharing her words, but some of the fuel which nurtured her incredible mind. This poem by Matthew Arnold certainly speaks to me. My serious health issues have all but scuttled my career. Yet, I haven’t given up on finding some form of meaningful paid work. During the week, I finally pressed send on my short story for the SBS Emerging Writers’ Competition. Could this be the vehicle for getting myself established? I am down on knees and praying this comes through, although goodness knows what it will means if my dreams actually start to unfold.

Anyway, without any further ado, here’s the poem:

Self-Dependence – Mathew Arnold

Weary of myself, and sick of asking

What I am, and what I ought to be,

At this vessel’s prow I stand, which bears me

Forwards, forwards, o’er the starlit sea.

And a look of passionate desire

O’er the sea and to the stars I send:

“Ye who from my childhood up have calm’d me,

Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!

“Ah, once more,” I cried, “ye stars, ye waters,

On my heart your mighty charm renew;

Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,

Feel my soul becoming vast like you!”

From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,

Over the lit sea’s unquiet way,

In the rustling night-air came the answer:

“Wouldst thou be as these are? Live as they.

“Unaffrighted by the silence round them,

Undistracted by the sights they see,

These demand not that the things without them

Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.

“And with joy the stars perform their shining,

And the sea its long moon-silver’d roll;

For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting

All the fever of some differing soul.

“Bounded by themselves, and unregardful

In what state God’s other works may be,

In their own tasks all their powers pouring,

These attain the mighty life you see.”

O air-born voice! long since, severely clear,

A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear:

“Resolve to be thyself; and know that he,

Who finds himself, loses his misery!”

I’d be interested to hear if this poem touches you in any way.

Best wishes,

Rowena

A View to Eternity – A Letter From The Bride – 9th September, 2001.

Last Thursday, Geoff and I celebrated our 20th Wedding Anniversary. Well, being in lockdown, “celebrated” might be exaggerating just a tad, especially as Geoff kept getting called into work. However, we had dinner with the kids, zoomed my Mum and Dad and then had a zoom with some friends. These were current friends who weren’t there on the big day, and we’re still to get in touch with our Chief Bridesmaid and Best Man. I don’t know what happened to the weekend. Oh yes I do. Geoff was working.

Anyway, I decided to share a letter I wrote which was printed up in our Order of Service. It turned out to be a good idea, as I was half an hour late.

The Letter

Geoff and I would like to thank you for attending our wedding and being part of our special day! I decided include this letter in the order of service to personalise the service and to share our thoughts, feelings and wedding experience with you. We also wanted to have a solid reminder of our priorities when we first entered into marriage to keep us on track for the future.

Geoff and I met on New Year’s Eve, 1998 when our mutual friend, Emma Longstaff, invited us to watch the fireworks over Sydney Harbour. Meeting Geoff was one of those frozen moments in time. Not because I thought I’d met my future husband but rather he is one of those few people you meet in life that somehow calms the storm within. Geoff gave me some very sound advice that night – look for friendship and stop trying to find a relationship. It lasted a few days, however, some New Year’s resolutions are made to be broken! After an all night conversation in my parents’ driveway, exchanging a few emails and a trip to the zoo, the rest as they say, is history.

Geoff and I not long after we’d met photographed in his Austin Healy Sprite…not as romantic as it looks!

The last couple of months have been hectic as we have bought our first home, started a business and have been planning the wedding. It could have been very easy to get wrapped up in all the preparations and smothered by the trimmings: finding the dress, arranging the engagement party, designing the wedding invitations, choosing the florist, the flowers, the reception, the cake… With all these details to sort out, the preparations for the service almost became the wedding itself and it was a battle to remain focused on what really mattered – our love and commitment to each other and how we were going to spend eternity together.

For so many of those around us, our marriage seemed a foregone conclusion. The inevitable destiny of two people who are in love. Rather than rushing down the express lane, Geoff and I have taken our time in approaching a future together. There is a time for everything and this is our time…not a moment too soon and not a moment too late. This is the perfect wedding – knowing we are marrying the right person at the right time and knowing we have laid the groundwork for the journey ahead – not having the right flowers!

In the midst of planning the wedding, I have also been establishing our new garden. Establishing our garden provides a good analogy for our preparation for marriage. When we bought the house, there were only two trees and compared to the garden I’d grown up with in Pymble, the place looked pretty bare, lacking in warmth and imagination. Before we’d even moved in, we had bought packets of bulbs to establish our Garden of Eden only to discover we had sandy soil that wasn’t unsuitable. Not to be discouraged, I dug vast trenches through the grass, ploughing in cow manure, soil and compost to prepare the ground. I continued watering the dirt throughout the winter months, plucking out the weeds and bits of grass, wondering whether those bulbs would ever see the light of day! It didn’t help either when the local nurseries had daffodils in flower while mine were still lying dormant. Night after night, I checked the garden with my torch until finally, row by row, the bulbs started to shoot.

Meeting Geoff didn’t happen overnight either and it took time for us to get to know each other well enough to make this commitment. Unlike flowers, though, you can’t just put a relationship in a hot house pumped full of fertiliser to accelerate the process and expect it to survive long term. You need to do the groundwork. It is only by sowing the seeds, fertilising the soil, pruning the branches and pulling out the weeds that a marriage can last. And for that extra special garden – making sure there is always something in flower through every change of season and every type of weather! Geoff and I are committed, with God’s strength and your support, to have a bountiful and enduring relationship.

You will notice several pots of flowers here in the Church instead of the customary floral arrangements. These started out as a way of financing more plants for our garden, however, once I put more thought into it, they came to represent a number of things for us. I liked the idea that these plants would be flowering every year on our wedding day to remind us of our special day. I also appreciated the promise of hope that they offered. Just like the tall poppies, there are so many forces at work to cut down a marriage and Geoff and I are determined to grow together with our branches entwined yet nurturing separate root systems to establish a healthy relationship. I also felt like a flower cut down in its prime when I got sick a few years ago and am thankful for the personal growth I have experienced during my recovery.

There are some very special people with us here in spirit today. Geoff’s parents have passed away. Fortunately, I was able to get to know his mother, Margaret, and were able to spend Christmas together. Geoff’s mother embroidered the ring cushion. Geoff’s brother, Terry, has also passed away and we have received much love and support from his widow, Gaye. We would also like to remember my grandmother, Mama Haebich who passed away a year ago. Mama loved Geoff and we spent some special times with her and Papa and Anna. Mama always seemed to get teary in Church and I have one of her special lace hankies with me today. We have also included the 23rd Psalm in the service today in her memory. I would also like to remember my grandfather, Papa Curtin who would wholeheartedly approve of me joining a family of stirrers.

Just so you don’t think planning the wedding was all work and no play, we have enjoyed our engagement and preparing the wedding. One of the highlights was Geoff’s Valentine’s Day proposal. Instead of proposing straight away or giving me my intended gift, Geoff wrapped up an electric sander for his car and presented it to me as my Valentine’s present. The look on my face, he says, was priceless! Another magic moment was finding my engagement ring. It has white and yellow gold meeting from opposite directions twisting together around a beautiful, perfect diamond, symbolising our marriage. There was also trying on the wedding dresses with Mum and Lisa and seeing myself transformed into the glowing bride. The wedding has also been an excuse for catching up with family and friends. And not to forget the Father of the Bride. I think Dad was the only one who was surprised when we announced our engagement. Or was that denial? He enjoyed his medicine though…watching both versions of the film Father of the Bride. Given that Dad looks like Basil Faulty and anything was possible, the movies seemed like good insurance!

Once again, we thank you for sharing our special day!

Love and God Bless,

Rowena and Geoff