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January 1st, my traditional walk to see in the new year, and all was bright, dare I say, promising. And then I caught myself, not hoping for too much, just focusing on that moment of sunrise, welcoming in the day/month/year. So many of us are being reserved and not expecting much that is different and yet clinging to a small shred of hope that things will begin to ease somewhat this year. I can’t even imagine what it was like for the world to live with polio for 12 years before there was a vaccine for it. We are all pretty weary. I can hear it in people’s language and tone. Even for those of us who have not suffered severely, we have still been effected. In our case here in the Centre of Australia, the virus has really only just arrived to a great degree. We are living with a mask mandate, lockout and regulations too numerous to mention. Because things are so bad in the southern states our supply of food and other things have grown more inconsistent. But not desperate.

January 1, 2022

The last few months of 2021 I meant to write a kind of ‘catch up’ post for the year. I like for the blogs I follow to catch me up every now and then on what they have been doing and how their life has gone. But I didn’t. So here is a bit about my last year with a few suggestions for this year. My journey learning to paint with pastels continues, though the end of the year saw quite a few bumps and delays in the development of things, partly because I took a course for 6 weeks. Briefly, I learned a few things however mostly it was a refresher in basic colour theory, value and composition. These were valuable but I realised when I finished the course that the style of work the artist taught wasn’t taking me in the direction I wanted to go. Also, I realised all of the participation in the Facebook group (required) was just too time consuming and not productive for me. So I took myself off, back into my own direction and I can feel it is the right thing to do. But now I need time to be doing it without travel and without quarantines and PCR tests soaking up time.

‘Naked Ladies’ after a small rain shower.

Reading proved to be a handy diversion for all the liminal time presenting itself this year. I thought I’d share with you the titles of my favourites and a very brief explanation in case you are interested. There were a few books that were good but I hesitate to recommend in the current climate of disease and death, so I won’t, and a number of disappointments that I either finished and was disappointed in how they were resolved, or just didn’t finish at all. My feeling is, life is too short to read a book that just isn’t doing it for me. So I don’t. A couple of years ago I started to realise my favourite genre was memoirs. However, this year I refined my search to ‘well written memoirs that read like novels’, and then I got off on a little tangent of well-written-memoirs-about-hiking. Goodness knows I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not a hiker but as you know I do like a good walk, so perhaps I’m living vicariously with this type of book. Whatever the reason, I hoovered through the last three selections like nobody’s business. Here’s the list, commencing in Jan 21, finishing Dec 21:

  • The Book of Ebenezer Le Page by G.B. Edwards – this is an older book and reads like a memoir, though the author insisted it wasn’t – life on the island of Guernsey around WWII. It is not exciting but it is a good story and written in a way I could picture everything about the place and people and the voyeur in me enjoyed it.
  • Flesh Wounds by Richard Glover – makes a person look at their own family differently, I suspect.
  • The Dog Who Came to Stay by Hal Borland – a lovely dog story with a nice ending (trust me)
  • The Salt Path by Raynor Winn – I ate this up. Great story and very real people with very real struggles, hiking the Southwest Path in England.
  • The Silent Wild by Raynor Winn – The next chapter of life for the two people of The Salt Path. Almost as good, and still well worth reading.
  • A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson – This made me chuckle and the story and factual information along the way was very interesting to me. It is about hiking The Appalachian Trail in the eastern USA. If you’ve seen the movie (and I don’t advise it) read the book, it is so much better.

I have kept up the garden I built in May 2021. Probably typical of most gardeners, whether novice or experienced, I tried a few new things—had some failures but a few successes. I’m sure I would have been more successful but I’m not a real gardener, to be honest. I think I might do more except for the heat. Working in the heat depletes me and consequently, I have no energy for other things. However…with fairly consistent, but minimal, effort I have become the Queen of Greens! My best efforts other than with herbs, have been with beets and chard/silverbeet. Also rocket/arugula grows like crazy, but a little of that goes a long way with me. As you can see in the photo, Don’s lime tree has filled in the espaliered branches nicely and we are hoping next season to see some limes on it. In a year when our grocery stores have not been able to keep up consistent supplies of fresh vegetables, the silverbeet has proved very handy. It has about finished now that we are into the very hottest part of summer and I will let things rest until March or April when the weather cools a bit again.

Just over a week into the new year I walked the same path at the same time of the morning as on the first day, noting that the sun was already rising later, which augers well for those of you wishing for longer, warmer days in a few months, and those of us wanting cooler weather as well. Far in the distance I heard a human voice, calling out—loudly. I thought perhaps they called a dog as sometimes people let their dogs off leash to run about in the early hours when no one else is about. But the shouting continued, as if a one sided conversation was happening. I squinted into the dawn lit path ahead (see above photo for approximate lighting) and eventually a small figure appeared, shouting and gesticulating in the direction of the hills, and walking briskly. Being the only other human in sight I decided to err on the side of caution in case the person was drunk or unwell, and I quickly changed route. Reasonably certain I had avoided any possible problem, I walked briskly in the same direction as the other person was headed but on parallel paths, rather than the same path. About two thirds of the way home I had to cross over and again heard the shouting voice. When I turned she was only a few feet over my shoulder and suddenly quiet. It was a young, maybe 20 year old indigenous woman, not appearing drunk and in fact quite tidy and attractive looking. But so close… I wondered how, almost like an apparition, she had made up that distance and was just over my shoulder. As soon as I was passed her she veered onto a different path and began loudly talking again, but not shouting as before. I had seen enough to know she wasn’t wearing earphones or carrying a mobile phone, and then I realised…she had been talking to the spirits of the land. Some of the more traditionally raised indigenous are taught to talk to the spirits, especially if they are moving through someone else’s land. They are telling the spirits what their business is and telling them to behave, which was why she had seemed to shout at the hills and valleys along the path. Once I realised what was going on and she meant no harm, I thought ‘I want some of that!’ I want to shout at the spirits and tell them to ‘shape up, stop messing with us and let us live without all your tricks and surprises’. Maybe this should be added to our armoury in dealing with the pandemic. It might be a bit loud, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone and it might make us feel better.

Meanwhile, be well.

Talk to the hills…that ghost gum looks like a true survivor.