Last Flight of the Swans – Friday Fictioneers 13th April, 2022

Age didn’t soften the blow. He was old, and she was old. Still, his death was brutal. She’d held onto his ice-cold body until the neighbour called their daughter. “It was time.” No! It would never be time. They would dance together for eternity: the swan and her beloved prince.

Celeste made them tea, right through Winter, and barely noticed he never said a word.

Now, the snow was thawing, and his chair had risen from the dead.

She couldn’t bear it.

The neighbor found Celeste lying on the snow still holding the axe.

The chair was split in two.

…..

100 words. PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

For those of you who know me well, you’ll know our daughter dances seriously. After a very disjointed couple of years, dance is back with a vengeance and I spent hours at the studio last week for open week and it’s dance competition this week. Part of me quite enjoys living and breathing dance, but am just a bystander and with my health issues, it’s really difficult to keep up with the demands of high pressure dance. At today’s competition, it wasn’t one of the dancers on stage who crashed and had a fall. It was yours truly who managed her feat of brilliance from her chair. I ended up on the floor and the whole competition came to a grinding halt for a good 10-15 minutes. I felt humiliated. What no one tells you about having offspring pursuing a high octane career path, is that they’re taking you with them. You also have to measure up. Sadly, I don’t believe I can. Well, not in a physical sense anyway. However, I’d imagine I’d be hard to beat if imagination had anything to do with it. However, that’s not the domain of a dance mum, and could even be a curse. Much better to stay in your place. Fire up the engine. Sew up those pointe shoes, and pay the bills. (Humph, feeling a bit sorry for myself tonight and very sore. Perhaps, my love affair with dance might return again in the morning.)

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields: https://rochellewisoff.com/

Many thanks and best wishes,

Rowena

J- Jindabyne, NSW…A-Z Challenge.

Welcome to Day 10 of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2020. Today we’re heading South from my grandparents’ place in Ipswich, Queensland to Jindabyne, which is the gateway to the Australia’s Snowy Mountains and ski fields, which have somehow become known as “The Australian Alps”. Please let me assure you, that these are not “Alps” in the real sense of the word, and are more like rounded hills than these soaring mountain peaks you see in other countries. However, you can still built snow people, have a snowball fight, ski and snowboard if you must.

While Ipswich was about the people, Jindabyne was about the experience, and for us that was skiing. We’ve made this trip a few times staying at Jindabyne and using that as a base to go skiing at Perisher.

Map showing the location of Jindabyne in relation to Mount Kosiuszko.

Jindabyne has come along in leaps and bounds, and has become so much more than cheaper place to crash for the night after squeezing out every precious moment on the snow. There’s a bevy of fantastic restaurants. So, you can eat well after an energetic day out on the slopes. In particular, we discovered Con and Donna’s fantastic Mexican restaurant,  Cocina Mexican Grill & Cantina, located in the town centre.

As much as I love great food, as I writer, I also love a story and I had a fantastic chat with Donna who drew me into their web. I might get some of these details wrong, but that’s the beauty of conversations as they pass through the years and become stories. Forty years before they opened in 2012, Con’s parents arrived in Jindabyne from Greece and like so many migrants during the 1960s, his father ended up working on the Snowy Hydro Scheme. Also, like many within the Greek community, he opened a milk bar, and restaurants working very long hours and carving out a future for their family in their adopted land. Over the years, the restaurant has had many transformations. However, when Donna and Con stripped it all back to start over, they found the original milk bar counter buried underneath and revived it. You’ve got to love a bit of nostalgia. They’ve also added a lot of personal touches like the pressed tin ceiling and suspended lights.

I clearly remember taking a number of photos inside the restaurant, as I was quite fascinated by the decor. Goodness knows where they went, and I’m convinced my dastardly computer has gobbled them up. It’s been doing a lot of that lately. I’ve been trying to dig up photos for this series, and so many of my photos have gone missing. It’s been incredibly frustrating. I have this one particular photo I want to use, and I can see it as clear as daylight in my head, but where it’s run off to is anyone’s guess. Indeed, I’ll have to start running missing photos ads, except you need a photo to run the ad. You can’t just leave an empty space. So, as you can see, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. So, I simply present my apologies and this hope you like this photo of a Jindabyne local chewing on a carrot stick.

We were feeding kangaroos carrots for breakfast.

Thought you might also enjoy this photo… Crows At Sunrise. Just be thankful you can’t hear the din!!

However, while these nature shots are wonderful, this is why we were there:

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However, before I head off, I just wanted to let you know that Jindabyne and the Snowy Mountains aren’t just a Winter destination. Indeed, I’ve also been down there a few times in Summer with my parents when we went on the Lakes Walk from Charlotte’s Pass through to Blue Lake, a staggering distance of  19 kms. Aside from constantly pleading with my parents: “Are we there yet?”, I remember seeing some very pretty alpine flowers. More importantly, I also saw snow for the very first time. Indeed, we tobogganed down some snow on very stylish garbage bags  near the top of Mt Kosciusko . It was so much fun.

Here I am at the summit of Australia’s tallest peak, Mt Kosciusko, which is  2,228 metres (7,310 ft) above sea level. 

Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed our trip to Jindabyne and thank you for your patience. It’s hardly what I consider a professional tour, but until my photos miraculously reappear, it’s needing to be a case of “she’ll be right mate”.

Have you ever been to Jindabyne? Or, perhaps you’ve been somewhere else starting with J? I’ve never been to Japan. There had been talk of our daughter traveling to Japan with the Central Dance Company this year, but it’s been a good thing those plans lost momentum before the coronavirus came to pass.

We hope you and yours are keeping safe.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

Weekend Coffee Share – 26th August, 2019.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share. How was your week? Hope it went well.

You’re in luck this week. I had a moment of weakness in the supermarket and bought a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. So, you can help yourself to a golden nugget of pure scrumptious indulgence. Yum!

The last week disappeared while I was wrestling with our son over his subject choices for the last two years of school. Moreover, while preparing for that, I realized that we really need to get the house in order to help him get focused and organized. That was a rather dire realization, because our place was packed sky-high with towers of books, photo albums and homeless ephemera. After all, for him to achieve his best, this place not only needs to be a well-oiled, organized machine. It also needs to be an oasis of calm,  where our swirling vortex of out-of-control student can crash and immediately find inner peace. Of course, this process goes a lot more smoothly when the parents are exceptionally Zen (in your dreams!!)

Now, that I’ve actually thought this through further now, it’s finally hit me that I’m trying to create utopia. That a home isn’t a factory, and a family isn’t made up of exceptionally well-controlled test subjects or computer-generated characters who only do what they’ve been programmed to do. Unfortunately, families are made up of real people each with their own inner worlds and aspirations and it’s a bit much to ask anyone to put all of that on hold for two years, although a degree of self-sacrifice is to be expected.

The other thing is, that no amount of prayer or feverishly tinkering away with life, is going to protect us from fate. Good and bad things happen and just because he’s doing his HSC, we can’t give him some sort of vaccination against adversity and bad luck. Moreover, to be honest, I don’t know that I would want to either. I’d rather he developed resilience within from fighting his battles, and not succeeding in the short term because he took the easy way out. We also have our Christian faith, but I don’t believe God has promised to protect us from adversity. He’s just promised to be there with us through life’s ups and downs. However, I still have faith in the power of prayer.

That said, I still see glaring examples of the things I do for our son, rather than leaving him to do them for himself. Most of these are those relatively small things around the house, but they do add up. I did leave him to hand in some school notes, which have been in his bag for awhile, but they made it in today…yippee!! Miracles do happen!

I’m looking at working on  two main areas to help him get organized at home. Firstly, I’ve been on a cleaning rampage. Focusing on all the stacks of books teetering on just about any flat surface around the house, I’ve already dropped off a boot load of books and another pile is mounting. These books have also accumulated a lot of dust. So, moving them on is good for our health as well. Once I’ve got through the books, the photo albums are next on the agenda. As an enthusiastic amateur photographer, the photo albums are also everywhere, and I also have loads of old family photos as well. However, I’ve started scanning more of them in and then I can store the bulk of them in the roof. Have some room to move. The other area I’m working on is our time management and keeping tabs on all the appointments. We’ve missed a few things on at the school, and that’s had repercussions. So, it’s pretty important, especially next year when students get a zero for a late assessment, unless there’s a rock solid excuse and I’m talking about something akin to an alibi.

However, although I sound particularly fired up, I’ve actually been  struggling at half-mast. It’s the tail end of Winter here and virtually everybody’s fighting something off. I’ve been sleeping through most of the day and then getting a burst of energy after dinner and staying up too late and the terrible cycle repeats. However, I have a busy day tomorrow so this could be the turning point which will get me back into a good routine. Being the perpetual optimist, I live in hope.

However, it hasn’t been all responsibility during the last week. I’ve also been reading Charles Dickens’: Oliver Twist and have made it halfway. I’m really enjoying it, although poor Oliver’s trials and tribulations are rather intense and pulls at my heartstrings. He’s really happy at the moment and away from Fagan and his darstardly crew for the second time, but things have been too good for too long. I know his luck is about to turn again. If you haven’t read the book, I highly recommend it. It is fairly quick-paced and there’s a good amount of philosophical reflection throughout, which I enjoy and Dickens is famed for his well-developed characters. They really come to life.

Meanwhile, our daughter spent much of the week away snow skiing down at Perisher-Smiggins in the Australian Alps. She had a ball. Haven’t seen any photos yet.

Have you been doing any reading lately?

What about your writing? How is that going?

In terms of post through the last week,  there was:

Bye Bye Miss!

Dia-de-los-muertos-Friday-fictioneers/

Dud Photos – Thursday Doors

Dog and I Finally Go For A Walk

I also reblogged a fascinating post from The Contented Crafter which looks at the use of vivid colours versus dull neutrals: Vivid Colours

Well, time has completely run away from me again tonight and I have a swag of things on tomorrow so I’d better scoot.

This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by  Eclectic Ali. We’d love you to pop round and join us.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Bye! Bye! Miss!

“You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to

grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than

the other girls.”

― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

/Tonight, we waved Miss off on her school ski trip. They were picked up from school in three massive coaches tonight and they’ll drive through the night to hit the slopes at Perisher Smiggins in the Australian Alps bright and early at 7.00am. By the way, if you’re used to skiing overseas, I’ll let you in on a little secret. The so-called “Australian Alps”, should really be called  “The Australian Mole Hills”. We don’t have real mountains in Australia.

Loading up the bus.

Naturally, seeing her off was a tad emotional and yanked away at my heart strings, Although she’s now 13 and in high school, as she climbed on board,  it was like watching this tiny girl get swallowed up by this massive white coach and disappear.  Not that I was about to board the bus to yank her to safety. I’m not that pathetic. I know it’s only for a few days and she’s been away from us for longer trips before. However, it’s moments like these where you not only think about all the fun adventures she’ll have, but the gaps in between certainties also open up just enough to let in the doubt. The what ifs. After all, we live in an uncertain world where anything could change at the tick of the clock. Of course, these uncertainties are always there, but our routines and busyness block them out and we forget we don’t hold the remote control. That things can happen. On the other hand, I’m equally sure she’ll arrive home tired with a beaming smile on Friday. She’ll have been away on what will be yet another trip of a lifetime.

“I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have

hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to

explain them.”

Louisa May Alcott

Another thought crossed my mind as I started working on this post, we’re in the process of waving goodbye to her childhood. Indeed, it’s clear that horse has already bolted. That said, she hasn’t grown up quite as much as the photo would suggest. She must be standing on a mound because there’s no way she’s as tall as me. I’m a good 174 cm  tall and she’s nowhere near it. Just as well I took this photo below with her Dad, which brings her nicely back down to size. Geoff is the same height as me so she hasn’t shot up quite as much after all.

 

Yet, she’s still grown up a lot since I first started blogging back in 2012. She’d only just started school the year before and truly was a little girl back then.

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what

we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before

we can enter another.”-

Anatole France

The kids on my daughter’s first day of school back in 2011. 

 

There are people I’ve been blogging with much of those years and have seen my kids grow up, which is a really special privilege really. After all, it’s an incredible thing to see someone grow up, looking at their photos, taking in their adventures and stories and being a part of their lives even if you’ve never met, which is one of the peculiarities of these close blogging friendships. In some instances, we do know each other better than people in the so-called real world, but we’ve never met. Never gone out for a real coffee. Nothing. It no longer seems strange to me until I try to explain it to someone who doesn’t blog.

Snowplowing on our first trip to the snow in 2012, aged 6.

Anyway, getting back to the trip, it’s going to be an experience for her. It was optional trip, and so many of her friends aren’t going, which has thrown her somewhat out of her comfort zone and she’ll be mixing with other students she doesn’t know and others where there are some tensions to boot. In effect, she’s stuck in a lift with these people for the week. While as  a teacher or parent, we can see this as a good thing and say a stranger is only a friend you haven’t met, as a teenager, is a whole different story. It can be unsettling.

Back at ski school in 2013.

However, Miss really loves skiing and is is a fairly good skier, especially compared to most of these kids who won’t have been skiing before. That should give her a bit of confidence.  I’ve also seen her face light up on the slopes. She’s had the ski bug bad before and once she hits the powder, she’ll be right. I just hope she doesn’t sustain an injury, because that could be a disaster for her dancing. She’s performing in Swan Lake with Central Dance Company in four weeks. She’s not allowed to get injured and in hindsight, perhaps I should’ve put a roll of bubble wrap into her suitcase. That would be a great look out on the slopes, but I’m sure I could’ve sold a few bubble wrap suits to some of the other parents. While we say we want our kids to get out there and experience the world, we’re all lying. We really just want them to sit in front of the TV and stay safe.

The kids with their snow kid in 2012. 

Meanwhile, we have one less person at home. For her brother, it means more chores but for me there’s one less fuss pot to feed and we could all use a few new stories. I’ve been fighting off some weird sleep virus so haven’t been much fun anyway. The week will fly by and all too soon, she’ll be back.

Well, that is except for the dogs. They don’t know anything about fun-filled ski adventures or the frolics of the sun. All they saw was the suitcase come out, and Miss is gone. Indeed, I could just imagine Lady thinking we’re hopeless parents. Don’t they even realize they’ve lost one? This is her song…

“No one to talk with
All by myself
No one to walk with
But I’m happy on the shelf
Ain’t misbehavin’
I’m savin’ my love for you…”

Meanwhile, I’ve spent a few hours tonight hunting down the photos from 2012 and getting well and truly lost down memory lane. Our son only has two more years of school and who knows how many family holidays we have left. That’s not to be negative and reflective. However, it is important to make the most of it. Find the time and money to get away. I’ve been thinking about a camping trip soon. That said, my husband and son will be going camping with the extended family up at Bathurst in a few weeks time to watch the Bathurst 500 Car Race. My daughter and I are staying home “to look after the dogs”, but she also has a dance production.

Anyway, I’m very late to get to bed and will head on now.

I’d love to hear about your skiing adventures or how you feel about your kids growing up and stretching their wings.

Best wishes,

Rowena

When it Takes the Village…Friday Fictioneers.

There was no reason why he couldn’t ski off the edge of Mt Kosciusko. Fly across the valley with the crow. Not even for the smallest nanosecond, did he actually consider his human form. That while his spirit soared, that he was made of flesh and blood and belonged to the Earth.

“Joshua! Joshua!” The crow was calling his name.

“Joshua!” His mother’s scream echoed across the valley. Only the power of prayer could save him now.

The stranger could almost sense his skis mysteriously turning under foot, then spotted the troubled young man and understood. His time had come.

……..

100 Words

This story is dedicated to families who love and cherish children with special needs and the constant vigilance required to keep them safe. An 11 year old autistic boy was run over and killed by a train in Sydney last week after escaping from a care facility.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

Weekend Coffee Share – 4th March, 2018.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

Hey, so what’s been going on in your neck of the woods this week? I had a virtual visit to London catching up with  Geoff Le Pard and Dog who ventured out for a walk in the snow where Dog was a bit sensitive about show getting in between his paws. Next, I scooted off to Birmingham with  Suzie81 Speaks and froze through  Snowmageddon. Meanwhile, it’s been hot and sunny here in Sydney, but not as scorchingly hot as it has been.

I know it doesn’t sound very exciting, but I am still fighting off Fergus the phlemmy cough and sinus infection. Consequently, I’ve been sleeping a lot and trying to stay home as much as possible to fight it off. It has been making me a bit grumpy, but it’s given me the chance to read.

Atticus (played by Gregory Peck) and Scout in To Kill A Mockingbird.

Read…That’s right I am re-reading Harper Lee’s: To Kill A Mockingbird. Have you re-read it since you studied it at school? Or, perhaps you haven’t read the book at all. I’d been meaning to re-read it for a few years, as one of my favourite all-time quotes comes from the book:

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

However, it’s simply been phenomenal to re-read the book and read the action around the quotes and truly understand what they were fully intended to mean within context. That’s so much richer, yet perhaps more limited, than when the quote appears all by itself drifting through space without a base.

Another quote also really resonated with me:

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.- Atticus Finch”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

This quote appeared in reference to Mrs Dubois who’d become addicted to morphine and was went through the horrors of withdrawal not because it would save her life, but because she wanted die free of the drug. After Atticus explained what she did, Jem and Scout came to respect her courage and understand somewhat why was she so cantankerous and difficult.

I also relate to this quote myself in terms of my health. I keep on fighting and keep staying a few steps ahead. This doesn’t feel like bravery or courage, but those qualities aren’t born out of hardship and mess and not a bed of roses.

This week has also had a few triumphs for the kids. Our daughter has an audition coming up which requires playing a musical instrument. However, she hasn’t touched her violin for over a year, but fortunately she has another week up her sleeve and much to my pride and irritation, she’s already playing Fur Elise better than me…the good old reliable tortoise. Meanwhile, at sailing our son was helping another young man who’d just got his Flying Eleven and it was his first time out. I was really stoked that the club thought Mr was good enough to go out with him. That was a really positive sign of confidence and respect. Better than winning a race…Well, almost!

Mr at the Sailing Club.

In terms of my writing this week,  I participated in Friday Fictioneers again. This week I based my flash on the story of Australian boxer, Les Darcy who tragically died young at the age of 21 in Memphis, Tennessee. I’ve added some bio details as well as a link to an excellent piece of writing by Australian author, Ruth Park who wrote his biography.

Oops. I almost forgot to mention that we had had a bit of local excitement this week. A small sailing boat was beached during some heavy rain and with it came all the questions of how did it happen? Who owned the boat? And, perhaps the ultimate question…could she be saved? I know how much our boats have meant to us and this boat was vintage with timber trim and had character. Since there are no secrets around here, it didn’t take me long to find out who owned the boat and how it came to rest. Beached Yacht, Ettalong, Australia.

Anyway, that’s about all for now. How has your week been? I hope it’s been a good one.

This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Eclectic Alli.

xx Rowena

 

 

The Snow Job – Friday Fictioneers.

The instant Inge saw the ad, she leaped at the chance to work on the Australian ski fields. Skiing was in her blood. Yet, although her parents had met at the Nagano Olympics and ran the ski school in Grosser Arber, Inge hadn’t claimed it as her own. Rather, it took crossing that vast expanse of desert they called “the Nullarboring”, to get a sense of who she was and claim skiing as her own.

However, as the bus headed into Perisher, something was wrong. Where were the mountains? What about the snow?

All she wanted was a white Christmas.

——-

This has been another contribution for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields The photo prompt for this week was kindly provided by © Dale Rogerson.

I have crossed the Nullarbor by car, train and plane and personally, I find something inspirational in that vast expanse of seeming nothingness. It reminds me of Jesus going out into the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights. There’s so much space, that your thoughts can just keep going and going and going without being pinned in by concrete and steel.

The Nullarbor Plain (/ˈnʌlərbɔːr/ NUL-ər-bor; Latin: nullus, “no”, and arbor, “tree”^[1]) is part of the area of flat, almost treeless, arid or semi-arid country of southern Australia, located on the Great Australian Bight coast with the Great Victoria Desert to its north. It is the world’s largest single exposure of limestone bedrock, and occupies an area of about 200,000 square kilometres (77,000 sq mi).^[2] At its widest point, it stretches about 1,100 kilometres (684 mi) from east to west across the border between South Australia and Western Australia -Wikipaedia.

BTW thought you might appreciate reading my Valentine’s Day post about the snow bear’s search for love Snowy…A Valentine’s Day Hopeful.

xx Rowena

 

 

Weekend Coffee Share – 27th August, 2017.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

Despite the sun shining outside and the smoke lifting, we’re having a day indoors doing jobs today. That’s what happens when you swan around all week watching your daughter perform. Or, as in the case of our son, spend the week at the snow, arriving home with a wet and stinky backpack. I was intending to go into Sydney today to attend the celebrations at the Irish Famine Memorial. However, they’re doing track work and it was all too hard.

As much as I should be offering you a cup of tea of coffee and something scrumptious to munch on, I could well be asking you to help out. All my research materials seem to multiply, and I’m struggling to find somewhere for them all to live. I say this is the product of an active mind. Or, am I just a scatter brain?

Last week, our daughter performed in Central Coast Showcase on two separate nights. Wednesday, she sang in a combined schools’ choir and Thursday night, she danced with her school. She wasn’t the star of the show, but we always love seeing her perform as well as being inspired by the other performers. Indeed, some were sensational, very professional acts which knocked my socks off. This is, in addition to very young performers as young as 5 and 6 who, for example, were performing in a junior dance ensemble.

Needless to say, performance = driving. It also = $ + time.

I guess if you wanted to write that as equation, it would read:

P = $ + T + D = joy

Our son had a fantastic week at the snow. I touched base with his PE teacher who took the more advanced skiers and he said: “He smashed it!!”

Well, I was understandibly ecastatic.

Our son leaving for snow camp.

Living in Australia only metres from the beach, snow skiing is an “interesting” sport. We live 6-7 hours away from the snow. So, even getting there is an incredible effort. Most of the kids around here, have never seen snow. Indeed, many Australians have never seen snow. I was about 12 when I first saw snow, and it wasn’t during Winter either. Our family went hiking through the Mt Kozsciosko National Park in Summer and I had the thrill of sliding down a glacier on a plastic garbage bag. That was some time around New Year’s Eve, when it’s stinking hot in Australia and anything but snow season.

Our family has been skiing three or four times and the kids have been through ski school. This meant our son had a good chance of doing well on this trip and I was praying so hard that it would be his turn to shine. Not that he’s not performing well in other areas but he’s had a rough time lately a needed a boost. I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be 13 and it isn’t easy to navigate your way through the murky depths of puberty.

Dingo at Fraser Island.

In terms of my writing, I participated in Friday Fictioneers again. This week’s flash fiction Dingo Attack.  I also shared an amazing piece of street art called  “The Eye”, which mesmerized me and I only wish I could experience it in person. There’s also Washington Post’s Mensa Invitational– an inspiration set of “words”. I also stumbled across an incredible piece of street art: “The Eye”.

“The Eye” by Cece, France.

Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to get on top of my research. I have a wooden chest next to my lounge chair and the theory is that all the books, folders and paperwork get stashed away in there to be conveniently pulled out as required. All great in theory, but the poor chest is looking like an overpacked suitcase and all my stuff is sprawled across the couch and also in piles on the back of the couch. BTW, there’s also stuff on top of the chest, stopping me from even accessing the “bowels of the ship”.

I should just stop thinking.

Stop writing.

Then, I might just have a tidy house.

In many ways, it’s not the best time for me to be concerned about the house. I’ve been struggling to breathe for the last couple of weeks. I’ve had the flu and a chest infection but these struggles have been stretched to the very limit by smoke produced by bushfires known as “hazard reduction burning”. As much as I support this measure to reduce the severity of Summer bushfires, the smoke has truly bordered on life threatening to me and quite a few locals. I’ve managed at home with three trips to the doctor in the last week. A friend ended up at Emergency with asthma. It’s terrifying. However, the smoke has cleared today and I’m hoping it’s finally gone. PLEASE!! I’m down on my hands and knees…a begger. It’s hard to explain just how difficult it’s been to simply breathe.

Bushfire Smoke Viewed from Woy Woy Bay.

These periods of down time, however, provide me with the space to get on with my family history research and I’ve really taken some huge leaps forward. I have been researching my 3rd Great Grandmother, Bridget Donovan, for a few years on and off. She was an  Irish Famine Orphan who was brought out to Sydney via the Earl Grey Scheme. She had her passage paid for, and each of the girls were given a trunk of provisions for the journey and their time here, including clothes and a Bible. Bridget arrived onboard the John Knox. She married George Merritt and I recently found out that they had a store on the goldfields near Mudgee. I even found her mentioned in an old newspaper clipping. I was stoked. I have been unable to find out where and when Bridget or her husband George died and were buried and it really frustrates me. It seems like such a basic, and yet it eludes me. Anyway, I was contacted recently and found out that three of George and Bridget’s sons intermarried with the Aboriginal community around Yass. This adds a whole new cultural dimension to my research and I also hope to meet up with this side of the family somehow. I have also found out that most of my Irish ancestors came from County Cork and this is now consolidating what appeared a diverse array of names into a much more integrated past. Indeed, I’m starting to think these various branches could well have known each other back in Ireland. I’m also hoping they don’t overlap or interconnect, which is currently looking likely. One of the first unwritten hopes of family history research, is not to be related to yourself!

So, despite not being well, I’ve been pretty busy in both thought and deed.

How has your week been? I hope it’s gone well and I look forward to catching up further. What have you been up to? 

This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Diana at Part-Time Monster. I hope you will pop over and join us for a cuppa.

xx Rowena

Haikus for Four Seasons

Winter

Sitting on the sand

wrapped in a woolen coat,

I am waiting for you!

 

Spring

No bikini body here,

I watch the whales migrate.

Diet starts tomorrow.

 

Summer

Longing for the beach,

bare feet burn on the hot sand.

Steam rises in the surf.

 

 

Ocean Beach looking across to Lion Island and Palm Beach.

Autumn

You have gone too soon.

Yet, sweet Summer hasn’t died.

I cling to your rays.

 

Rowena

6^th March, 2016

Tonight, I set myself quite a challenge..to write series of four inter-connected Haiku for each of the four seasons, set down at our local beach  5-10 minutes walk from home. While there are seasonal changes at the beach, these can be quite subtle aside from the peak Christmas period when we actually experience some crowds as well as annoying traffic. The blow-ins are considered “blow flies” by many of the locals.

It was quite challenging working out how to interpret what really are fairly subtle seasonal changes here and work something out that covers the four seasons. The weather is largely good for 9 months of the year although there are some patches of incredibly hot weather. Even Winters can be pretty mild with only a few weeks of intolerable cold. At the same time, we do get stretches of heavy rain.

Autumn Leaf, Pittwater, Palm Beach, Sydney

So, when it comes to describing our four seasons, especially set at our beach, many of those conventional symbols or representations aren’t applicable. We don’t have snow and while there are some deciduous tree with those stunning Autumn leaves, Australian native plants are evergreen and their leaves don’t change colour. There are town and suburbs which do experience a “true” Autumn but not around here. You really have to go searching for Autumn leaves. They’re not to be found on every street corner.

As for Spring, we have been on water restrictions here for over ten years and even though they’ve eased, the intermittent rainfall has been quite cruel to our garden. There is no sudden explosion of life from these dry sandy soils in Spring and if I’m feeling particularly motivated, I’ll pop down the street and buy some colour. Cheap colour so it doesn’t really matter if I kill it. Our garden really is more of a cemetery. Indeed, in Summer, make that a “crematorium”.

We actually took the kids and the dog down to the beach tonight for a walk and the kids had a brief swim. We’re not real keen for them to swim at dusk as there are some sharks around. Not that we’ve had any attacks here but we don’t want to be the first either! Really must try to get down there more often. It’s been too hot but our Summer isn’t over yet and I’m really going to try to squeeze out every little last bit that we have left.

xx Rowena

 

The Marina is Closed. Also Known as a Bit of Snow.

Talk about polar extremes this time of year. You could fry an egg outside in Greater Sydney today but here’s snow on the waterfront in USA and a hilarious photo! xx Rowena