Category Archives: Life

Thoughts and observations about day to day, or special times in life

the gift of the little frog…

25 Tuesday Oct 2022

Posted by in Alice Springs, Animals, Life, nature

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After the good rain we had in February…rain that washed out the roads and the railway line and disrupted our lives even more than Covid…the rain that caused the river to flow and replenish the basin, the trees to be washed clean of red dust, and the grasses to grow lush and green and then turn golden…the rain that cooled the earth and peppered the sky with glorious clouds at sunrise and sunset. After that rain was when the little frog appeared.

The little frog was the size of my thumb on my small hands. At first we only heard him. Chirrrrrup. Chirrrrup. He would announce his presence for a minute or two, only once or twice in a day, or sometimes at night. He was considerate enough not to carry on for hours. A week or so after we first heard him I switched the light on in the bathroom one evening and sensed a presence nearby. I glanced over and there he was looking at me. I must have looked like the biggest giant in the world to him but he didn’t try to escape, he just looked. When I came out of the bathroom and told my husband he said ‘Did you catch him so we can return him outside?’ ‘Well, no, I didn’t want to risk hurting him.’

You can see by the comparison of the tile grout to the little frog how small he was.

We had a ‘spider jar’ and now we needed a ‘frog jar’. These jars formerly held my husband’s favourite sweet treat, chocolate covered almonds. I have a slight jar fetish, mostly for glass, but for any useful shaped jar. The almond jars are plastic with screw top lids and so if you are trying to catch and release something they are not likely to break and they are light weight too. I had a spare almond jar and I retrieved it so it would be handy for the next time we spotted the frog. He was gone by the time I had returned this time.

His colour would change depending on where I found him. Don insisted there was more than one. I was certain there was not. It was in his wide dark eyes.

The next time came in the middle of the night and how or why I saw him in the dark I have no idea, but I ran for the frog jar and came back to him still waiting for me, this time in the toilet bowl! I carried him outside and released him into the very large bowl of water I keep for the kangaroos and birds. The moon was bright that night and I saw him swim quickly to the bottom of the bowl and then straight up again to perch on the edge of the bowl. And stare. At me. He looked at me like he either didn’t understand or was very disappointed at his new situation. I was moved to explain to him my reasoning but I didn’t. I couldn’t speak amphibious syllables and he wouldn’t have understood.

Thank goodness my toilet was relatively clean when I took this!

On subsequent occasions we spotted him in the toilet bowl again but were unable to capture him for relocation. And then he relocated himself. He disappeared for the coldest part of winter and then suddenly in August at the end of Winter when it was still quite cold, he reappeared singing happily from the hand basin drain in the ensuite bathroom. Attempts to relocate him were mostly unsuccessful this time, though we did mange to catch him a couple of times. Since we couldn’t figure out how he kept getting back in again each time, we kind of gave up and learned to live with each other. He was no bother, except for the occasional ‘chirrrrup’, and even that I began to listen for each morning, a kind of checking in that everything was ok with our houseguest.

And then the sightings and chirrrrupings stopped. Oh, but there it was once more and I realised I was relieved to hear it. And then it was no more. At all.

A few weeks later I was vacuuming, doing a rare clean into corners I usually didn’t bother with. What was that small dark oval shape? I leaned down and even without my glasses on I could see the desiccated silhouette of our houseguest. Even in death he had not been a bother, just crawled neatly into a corner and dried. Writing about this a couple of weeks later I have tears welling and a lump in my throat. Why should that be? There are unanswered questions. Aren’t there always? Among them I wonder, did the little frog enjoy his serenade to me each day from the echos of the basin drain? Or was it just me who enjoyed him?

A few days after finding him I read the writing below and commend it to you now. I think it might apply to tiny frogs who find an amiable house to live in, too.

“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here. We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?” —Richard Dawkins

a year of small things…

20 Tuesday Sep 2022

Posted by in Alice Springs, Health, Life

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I’ve written on this topic a few times in the past, but I hope you can stand a little more. I’ve written half a dozen draft posts over recent months, and haven’t published a single one. It’s very hard to write with perspective about things that are ongoing. This has been a challenging year for many of us, not least of which is the frog that has taken up residence in our plumbing. He/she is only the size of my thumb and when I can catch him I put him outside again, but as I write he is ‘chirruping’ loudly from the bathroom sink drain. We had a shower together yesterday, he singing to me from the protection of the drain, and me wondering if he/she is raising a noisy family!

What is equally true is the world is very very beautiful–in many ways we fail to see or allow to touch us.

We’ve had extraordinary skies this year–beautiful light, colour and clouds.

In my life the little things that have saved me almost as much as the love…small moments, tiny events, simple actions. It’s one of the reasons my day feels lacking if I can’t start it with a walk at sunrise. Yes, it helps that I’m a morning person, but this year with serious sleep deprivation even though I am awake early…sometimes very, VERY early, it has been challenging. I’ve been doing it for so long, decades now, that my body almost goes through the preparations without me having to think about it. It knows that those bird sightings and the melodious carol of the Pied Butcherbird, the beautiful skies, and the movement that relaxes my muscles and bones set me up for the day. But sleep deprivation has intervened and some recalibrations (and naps) have been required.

You can’t tell from this photo, but he really is only the size of my thumb and I have small hands.

This year has been a series of physical/medical challenges for me. Nothing life threatening, but requiring attention, time and energy to respond to. Some years are like that, have you noticed? One of the tactics I used, but didn’t realise until afterward is something the experts call ‘attention deployment’. This is when you engage in something that takes your mind away from whatever it is you want to momentarily forget. They say it is different than ignoring a thing, it is only a breather from it. It gives a little break, though it isn’t clear to me if tiny frogs are meant to be included. Earlier in the year I was cleaning out and renovating the house, while also renovating my body. Lately I’ve turned to reading, painting and experimenting with flavours in the kitchen as well as brewing my own cleaning fluid.

Nothing is too lame. What does it matter if something sounds strange? If it interests you and diverts one’s attention enough to be helpful, relaxing even–do it.

Citrus season has just finished here in Central Australia but continues for a little longer in the southern regions. Our lemon tree has been bountiful. My neighbours had to be away for five weeks or so and left the fate of the fruit on their six orange trees to ME! I water their plants and check on the house regularly and pick the fruit up off the ground so it doesn’t draw pests. With the oranges, I make orange and almond cake, that deliciously sweet and moist gluten free cake that I normally save for special outings to cafes. When I’m just eating the oranges for breakfast or snacks, I save the peels and add them to a jar that has white vinegar in it. Once the jar is filled I put a note on top of it that has the date two weeks hence when the brew will be done. The vinegar draws out the orange oil (also works with lemons) and at maturity you strain out the fruit peelings and put them in your compost, and bottle the liquid for cleaning. I have read you dilute it with water, which I have done with the lemon brew, 1/4C lemon vinegar to 1C hot water for cleaning windows. Use it with a lint free microfibre cloth and it does a brilliant job. The orange one I use 1C diluted with 1/2C water as a kitchen and sink cleaner. It works with whatever cloth you use, and the smell is delicious and it is nontoxic. Today I cleaned out our smelly letter box in which a poor little gekko had died and begun to decompose. All smells lovely again now.

Strained peels from oranges. Lemons awaiting their fate, and orange peels brewing. The luscious orange and almond cake is the best.

Distractions? Let’s not forget a good craft or art practice. Recently our daughter attended a Cowboys-and-Cowgirls-Christmas-in-July party for her office. She sent me a photo of bedazzling her costume and told me it is ‘surprisingly relaxing’. I’m slightly trepidatious that she may be covered head to toe in sequins and rhinestones the next time I see her!

Life has always been hard. During the last Pandemic it was so much worse than now. If you want to read a novel that starts there and comes into the present, Isabel Allende’s new novel ‘Violeta’ is an interesting distraction, not a difficult read and describes lives in other times and places over a period of 100 years.

My little garden is another distraction that produces things which I can harvest from time to time. This is the third year since I built it and I now have surprise seeds that sprout like gifts from the earth and present me with chilies, lettuces and basil. The early spring/late winter dandelion leaves also add some zip to the occasional salad at the moment. I’ve left the broccoli and some of the lettuce and rocket (arugula) go to seed so the poor bees have something to eat until other things start to flower again. We’ve had the coldest Winter we can remember here in Alice, so things will take a little while to recover from frost bite. But a couple of weeks ago we had a glorious 16mm of rain which have helped bring on Spring. Meanwhile the bees enjoy the yellow flowers as well as the blue flowers of the four rosemary bushes in our garden. And little by little I’m potting up starts from winter cuttings and freshening soil and planting more natives for the bees and birds and us to enjoy.

The dandelion greens and a salad with sourdough toast. My little herb garden with it’s out of control parsley plants…that is just TWO plants!

And then there are the tiny pleasures, so easy to miss. The way the light illuminates my kitchen in the evening at the end of Winter. The little wallaby that peers at me as I eat my breakfast. The ever changing skies morning and evening.

I’m inclined to agree with Rilke.

In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer

Rilke
The late afternoon winter sunlight that shines into my kitchen. A visitor come to have breakfast with me, and glorious late winter blossoms, all of which I started from cuttings, after I nearly killed all three of the original plants!
A recent painting inspired by the mists at sunrise as they moved from the MacDonnell Ranges after recent rain.

the luck of it…

06 Saturday Aug 2022

Posted by in Alice Springs, Life

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It was unusually cold here in Alice this July, the coldest on record. Having mentioned the low temps and heavy frost to a few people and received their surprised reactions, I thought I’d give you a little look into the cool side of life in Alice.

For several mornings the temps have been below 0 Celsius (32F). It had gotten gradually colder each morning until a few weeks ago when it hit -4C (24F). Undaunted, and unaware of immediate future events, I headed out to feed my little local group of Crested Pigeons. Don calls them my ‘adoring fans’ as they await their morning seed. Why wouldn’t they adore me, there’s not much food around on these freezing cold mornings! I love to watch them jostle and rearrange themselves to get their little share. Most mornings there are around 20 of them. After they have eaten they often ‘floof’ and perch on the steps or the brick wall and preen themselves or each other in a very satisfied way. They make soft cooing sounds and when they take off, their wings make a whistling sound due to the shape of the feathers. The little bit of orange/red around their eye and the nicely coiffed crests make them look like permanently startled little aliens. They make me smile.

I feel very sorry for them braving these cold temps this week. Can you see in the photo how cold everything looks? Or is it just me?

As I ventured onto my usual route around the golf course I began to notice more and more frost settling. The grass was crunchy and crisp under foot. I stopped to take a few photos but honestly, the tips of my fingers felt like they might get frostbite so I hustled on home within half an hour.

After breakfast and a shower I made a cup of tea to sip while checking emails. Once finished I walked the empty cup to the kitchen. And there out the window was water where it shouldn’t be…pouring down the pavement in the courtyard. My gaze scanned the area back toward the source of the flow and sure enough, a pipe had burst. Having no idea what to do first I contacted Don who had the car and came straight home from his desk at Uni. Meanwhile I called my usual plumber. They weren’t answering their mobile number or their office, which is usually a bad sign. Once someone called me back, he gave me the bad news…22 others were ahead of me in the queue.

They know me and I took their advice to sit tight because probably no other plumber would be able to get to me either, such was the case load across town. Even the golf course fairway in front of our house had a burst pipe. The plumber asked me to send him a photo of the damage situation, which I did immediately. Aren’t phones a convenient thing at times??

I quickly realised, though, if this had happened a week later, we would be in Adelaide for me to have the dental surgery, and it might have been days before anyone had seen the situation, let alone thought to turn off the water. Lucky us, I thought.

Don arrived home and turned off the water at the meter. So no water for me that day, which completely changed my plans for cooking and cleaning. Don left and I began to think. I hadn’t saved a jug of drinking water. I went next door to see our neighbour, and ask if I could get a jug of water, which would keep me from having to turn the water back on in case the worst happened and we had no service until the following day, which was what the plumber had said would probably happen. I hadn’t yet projected into the future the issue that would arise around using the toilets! A failure to plan is a plan for failure??

Once at the neighbour’s house I explained to him what happened and he looked at the photo and said ‘I can help you’. Oh, no, no, I don’t want to impose on you. He insisted it was no imposition and he would follow me home and have a look. He decided he could cut off the offending blow out and cap the pipe, which would mean I could turn the water back on until the plumber could get to us. Within about 40 minutes he had returned and made the repair. We turned the water on and not a drop leaked. What luck, not to mention a good neighbour. He’s helped me out of a few difficult situations, and I return the favours–like the time they were away and their little dog escaped its care givers several kilometres away, and was wandering around outside home in the heat. We spent a snuggly afternoon together in the air conditioning.

Meanwhile I busied myself in the kitchen, packing up a couple of my special brownies for he and his wife, and a jar of special ‘brew’ that I have started making with the orange peels from the same neighbour’s orange trees. They have about six trees and enough oranges to feed the entire street, but lucky me is allowed to harvest whenever I want to. And they have an open invitation to harvest our limes and lemons when they are in season. They are frugal and lovers of fresh food so I knew they would be interested in the orange cleaner I’d been making. Within a few weeks of each other I’d seen articles about making cleaner from orange peels and white vinegar on both Gardening Australia TV show, and on Instagram. I had started a jar of it in early June and already strained and was using it with great success. So I filled a small jar full for the neighbour to try as well.

About half an hour after our neighbour left, the plumber called and said he had a break in the action and he could come immediately if I was home. I was. He did. Within another 40 minutes the repair had been fully completed and I had water again! The plumber who showed up to do the work was not the one I’d spoken to on the phone, but he had been here a few times. For a long while when he would come to do work, he had a tale of deep sadness after his wife left him and was not letting him see his son. He had welled up with tears one day when he was here, and I had listened and tried to give him some hope. When he arrived that day, he had his son with him, since it was still mid-year school holidays here. He seemed very happy and glad to be doing the job for me. It made me wonder if he had stuck his hand up to come and help me…because perhaps I had helped him. We never know these things.

How lucky was I that day?

It seems to me there are a number of different kinds of luck. The serendipity of good luck are those times of near misses, the car almost hit you, the branch nearly fell on you, your newborn is a good sleeper etc. Then there is the not good looking luck, to which we are more challenged to respond. Then there is the luck we make for ourselves. We make a decision and there are outcomes. Sometimes we even don’t make decisions, and this has outcomes as well. If we live with intention and try to open our eyes to what is happening in the moment, we can choose to throw the peels in the bin, or to make orange and vinegar cleaner…and share it. We can be thoughtful and respectful to neighbours and workers, or not. If that is luck too, then count me in.

I’m not even kidding you a tiny bit, I finished this post and looked at my email inbox and the first thing that came up was an ad for an Apple original film called “Luck”. Do you think the muse is playing with me?

what can go wrong…

28 Monday Feb 2022

Posted by in Alice Springs, Creativity, Life

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NOTE: I was putting finishing touches on this piece when Russia invaded Ukraine. It is not my intention to ignore the state of world affairs. I do, however, feel that whatever light and kindness we can contribute to a sometimes brutal world, is a worthy pursuit, so in that spirit I have decided to publish it, with a few changes. I hope it serves useful purpose.

Change is a funny thing. It wants to be done, but in its own way. A couple of months ago, our current series of changes started because we need new carpet. But to replace carpet you must move everything that sits on the carpet. (I guess this also applies to invading a country. To bring in the new, or return an old regime, the current occupants must be displaced or at least severely disrupted.)And since we are not as young as we used to be, I could see this was a big task. It occurred to me one day that if I reduced the amount of belongings in the cupboards, I could move much which was on open shelves into cupboards, thus making the movement of furniture easier. And of course I reduced the amount on the shelves before moving what remained, into the freshly cleared cupboards. Once we decided to do a declutter and new carpet, we also realised our walk-through wardrobe needing updating. The lighting has always been inadequate and the shelves and rails are an inefficient use of space. Thus grew a side project, having new shelves built and tiles to replace carpet on the cupboard floor. Isn’t this what we have all heard about? You paint a wall, and suddenly the adjacent wall looks dingy? And off you go into a domino effect of updating and refreshing…or invading another country, evidently.

In the beginning, back in early January when our events started, daily changes to life threatened anxiety levels, appetite, sleep. The pastel painting had nearly ground to a halt. Counterintuitively, I became obsessed with needing to clear out our living space, even though at first, it didn’t appear to need it. It was something I had control over, which is nothing to be disregarded in our current world. And even more true every passing day. So every day for weeks I have minimised, decluttered and tossed what no longer seems useful. I hasten to add, if you had walked into my house you would not have thought it cluttered. There was even space in most of the cupboards. But what was here, was excess to needs. It clogged the energy highways…just as the rain clogged the literal highways into Alice Springs. Just as delusions of grandeur or testosterone clogged the brain cells of Russian leaders.

While our Covid numbers soared to recored highs for the NT, it rained, flooded, and grocery shelves emptied. All the while I was busy at home with my own clogged energies.

I’m a maker. I always have been, even as a child. I need materials with which to make things, whether it is sewing, mosaic, art, jewellery or any number of other bygone interests. However, once I have learned whatever it is I’ve needed to know from a passion, I’m often done with it. The trouble is–realising when that end has come, because very occasionally I do return to something for another burst of making. However, never have I felt the need to invade another’s space to assume control of their interests. But for a time, creative energies had slowed to a trickle. (One of the good things about learning from life as you age is that you can sometimes feel when the time is right for something, invasions being the exception, which seem to always be a wilful act of Ego.) I had a deep feeling reassuring me ‘once you have cleared the way, creative energies will return’. In fact when I was only about halfway there, I began to feel tiny bubbles of energy fizzing through my insides. I wonder, do tiny bubbles of energy surge through a certain Russian leader’s insides at the moment?

The flowers following the rain were beautiful…then came the flies, the weeds and the spiders.

I had another large clean out five years ago. How could there still be this much that needs to go? It is interesting when you start down this road how much you see once the process has been initiated. I shudder to think what other applications this practice might have… Back then, it was too soon to let go of some things, so I made the decision to hold on to them for a while. (And perhaps this has been true of Putin and his strong love of Russian culture, he just wasn’t ready to let go of control over it.) But most of the clutter, I just couldn’t see back then. Truthfully, hardly any of it has been acquired in the subsequent years after the first declutter. Most of it has been with me for years and years. And I now wonder if it has somehow been a comfort to me—a reassurance of a former life in another country, raising a child, being a different person—sort of? What would Putin do?? People from my parents’ generation had this idea that their children would value and want what they had to leave them. And certainly that is true in some cases, but mostly we have noticed that children seldom value the same material possessions as their parents. It certainly doesn’t seem as if many of the younger generation in Russia want whatever is to be gained by invading Ukraine.

Just as I began the declutter, this phrase came into my awareness…

‘Clutter is the result of not making decisions…and procrastination.’

It clarified my mental processes like a bolt, and slotted me squarely into the process. I had become weary, as are many millions of people living through the last couple of years. I realised I didn’t care about holding on to ‘stuff’ any more, except what I’m using or what truly enhances my life. It was pointed out to me, it takes energy to ‘hold on’. And so it does. Holding on to things takes a lot more effort than letting it go. Apparently in extreme cases, it also requires killing people and destroying their lives to recover what was no longer yours to hold on to.

We watch in wonder as the green carpet creeps up the ranges and skies offer special light and colour.

In a couple of months when the weather has cooled my friend and I will have one giant lawn sale. I’m lucky she is in the same place as me, both mentally and physically, and so together we have enough to supply the local lawn sale attendees with many bargains, a couple of times over! This is not about making money, it is about freeing energy which is at a very low ebb, and more valuable to me than a few dollars.

It was an interesting observation…as my purge and energy renewal continued, the rains and flooding subsided. After a few weeks the flow of groceries and goods, back to the Centre of the country and our town, began to return to normal. The macro and the micro happening simultaneously, as it sometimes does right in front of us…and has continued to do with recent eastern European invasions.

With the decluttering came a new mantra…

‘Get out of your head, and get into the moment…’

This is the typical process we introverts try to balance all the time. The culling decisions are all in my head but the results enable me to rearrange things, make them work better in the physical space. Things I hold on to are right there in sight so that I will readily see them next time I’m looking. I found that so helpful when I decluttered my wardrobe contents five years ago. I can pack a bag in about fifteen minutes now, though I laugh as I write this sentence since the world I desire to travel in is getting smaller by the week. I’m certainly glad our visit to Russia is in the Past.

Here are a few brief observations from the process that might help you:

  • Know your ‘why’ (do you want your domicile more orderly, easier to clean, or maybe you want more energy, or to take over a whole other country?)
  • Set an end date but give yourself plenty of time—as you uncover, you will find more places to conquer.
  • Do a little bit every day, whether cleaning one shelf or drawer, or gradually moving troops into place. In my case I set a time goal of an hour a day. Some days I did more and toward the end there was less to do, but I hardly missed a day.
  • Phone a friend. I have found it easier to have a friend to do these things with, or at least someone to consult, especially when the going gets tough and you feel a bit overwhelmed. It is always easier for someone else to think clearly and see your stuff without the accompanying emotional baggage. Friends in a bubble of delusion are perhaps not the best to consult, however.

Getting out of my head and transitioning to the practical moment is great, but I also appreciate that I now have more space in my head (so to speak) for creative thoughts, that are now threatening to be overwhelmed with more suffering in the world. To date, the new cupboard drawings (done by me) have been sent to the cabinet builder who has committed to installation in May. The carpet has been ordered and is committed to being installed in April. My purge is nearly finished, save the lawn sale…but I am truly shaken inside that other purges are not. I’ve located an electrician to install new lighting, and a tiler to replace the cupboard carpet with tiles. What could possibly go wrong from here?

fresh off the easel…MacDonnell Ranges

my summer of wintering…

17 Thursday Feb 2022

Posted by in Creativity, Life

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For many years I have tried to reframe my feelings of the months that I grew up experiencing as winter. I’ve heard other people who grew up in the northern hemisphere, but now live here in Australia, express similar feelings. We always feel out of step with Northern traditions that are seasonally based and from which we see iconic images based in the Northern seasons. After all, I spent 30 years having a cold Christmas, plus a few more reinfections on visits since then. After 38 years in some of the hottest places in Australia, my body and psyche still can’t quite connect the months with the weather and traditions. Or is that what is really going on?

I remember that first Christmas in sub-tropical Darwin, standing around a pool in 33C (91F) heat and 70% humidity, searching for a bit of shade and talking to people who were still strangers to me. And there was alcohol, lots and lots of it! We never even had a glass of wine for Christmas when I was growing up, so the whole thing just seemed wrong…sunburn, strangers and beer!

But Christmas and the idiosyncratic northern traditional decorations placed in the sunny, southern environment have been the least of my concerns over the decades since that first year. What I have repeatedly noticed is a desire to hibernate during these months. I get my chores done in the cooler part of the day and during the 100+F heated afternoons, I darken the shades and try to stay cool inside the house. Even better if I can nap…and read…and not do anything very energetic. And lately I find I don’t even want to eat very much, and certainly not cook!!

My most recent discovery as I nap and read, has been the book ‘Wintering: the power of rest and retreat in difficult times’ by Katherine May. It has been enlightening about what constitutes Winter and the traditions of wintering which are also restorative measures, some even suggestions you might get from a good friend. The author is not judgemental, and in fact is quite self deprecating, but generous in sharing what she has learned. 

The one thing she did not exactly address is for someone transplanted, in a completely different climate and place who cannot seem to transition to the local seasonal differences. Sometimes exotic plants can survive seemingly hostile environments, so why not me? At times I’ve wondered if I might have to surrender and leave this hot arid place. But each time we have a break and I come back to the place we have lived for 29 years, I’m so glad to be here that I put all thoughts of leaving to the back of my mind. Most recently as we flew back into Alice after Christmas in Adelaide, I looked out the airplane window at the heat haze and the half moon and recognised the beauty I now know as home.

Heat haze and half moon–flying into Alice

Just as I began writing about Wintering, another theory dovetailed into the mix of thoughts–this one from a podcast. Charlie Gilkey (The Good Life Project podcast) is an expert at coaching people. He says we all have ‘seasons’ of varying productivity levels. For him summer is his ‘stupefication season’.—meaning, low productivity, low focus, depressive even. It was a true revelation because it is the same for me, but I thought I was the only one. For years I’ve noticed all I want to do in summer is hibernate. I have been thinking it was something about longing for the winter I grew up with, but I now realise, it is more about where I am now. The intense heat depletes me. I have recognised that the decluttering project in which I’m currently engrossed, seems to fit perfectly into the energy level and mental attention I have for things right now. And that is what Charlie recommends too, fit your activities to your seasonal levels, however they work for you. It kind of makes sense on a very practical level–while I’m inside so much in the summer (perhaps you in the winter) to have an activity that requires me to be inside and that is imminently flexible. I can do a lot or a little and organise things any way I want them in any given day! Yay!

Gilkey further talked about people having circadian rhythms throughout the day, which I already knew about for the physical body, but they apply to the mental processes as well. We can benefit from recognising and planning around these on a daily practice. People like me who are ‘larks’ and have the most energy in the morning are best to do things that require focus between the hours of 7am and 1pm. I’ll have to work on that one. I should be doing my art work then, but I do all my other jobs then, which means the art I produce in the afternoons is probably wanting for better attention. Of course this isn’t always possible because Life gets in the way, but he also says you can account for that in whatever schedule you try to set up. I’m not so much into ‘schedules’ at this stage of life, but I am mindful of energy levels and patterns and try to work with them. You can allow for some mornings to be taken with other things, but in those afternoons when you may not be as sharp, you could ready your materials for the next morning session. He also suggests whenever your ‘stupefaction season’ is, to try and do less. In the six weeks or so since piecing May’s Wintering ideas together with Gilkey’s rhythms in life, I’ve felt more at ease and, strangely, been happier and more productive with the very selective goals I’ve identified.

Doing less and relaxing about it is my new approach for this time of year. If that isn’t ‘Wintering’ and practicing rest and retreat in troubling times, I don’t know what is. This is my new way of summering.

(Apologies to both May and Gilkey for overlaying their ideas, if this is offensive. It has been so helpful to me and I wanted to share…)

call me late for dinner…

20 Monday Dec 2021

Posted by in Life

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What if the most important thing in life is to figure out what we really think, want, feel? What if our biggest problem is the influence others wield over us, be they close acquaintances, family or far away aspirational figures, because we don’t know what we want? This thought occurred to me as I was packing my suitcase. Why did I want to take that particular piece of clothing—for comfort, to please someone else, or maybe just convention—you can’t be seen in anything but a dress if you are a certain age—or something equally ridiculous. And right then my brain exploded with the knowledge that I’ve been doing this all of my life, with e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.

And then the thought, ‘but is this always a bad thing?’

It has taken nearly two years for Covid to finally exert its weight on me enough that I feel like a drowning woman at times. And I know I’m lucky. But still… still there are these constant decisions one must make to protect, nurture and grow oneself, not to mention the responses to nurture, protect and respond to those close to us. If you are an introvert and a ‘Highly Sensitive Person’ (HSP is a thing, researched and published by Elaine N. Aron, Ph.D) this is a thick layer of complexity added to our already complex human existence, now compounded by layers of the Covid Effect.

I know some of you are struggling too, I’ve read your emails and blogs and this is effecting all of us in some way. At the time of writing, to go to South Australia and back here to Alice Springs again we have to have an approved border arrival document, a vaccination certificate to show upon arrival, a downloaded and set up G2G app so they can track us, and a negative covid test result within 72 hours of returning. We are triple vaxxed, so it is different for those who cannot be vaccinated or who choose not to be. As we recently experienced traveling to Adelaide to have tests done, the travel restrictions impact access to hospitals (where both tests were performed), causing us to add a week to our time away, and the costs that incurred. There are cancelled flights to rebook as the airlines attempt to get up and running again and are struggling to be viable. These times require great flexibility and knowing one’s inner strengths and sensitivities helps with that.

The first time I had to wear a mask in March 2020, it nearly set off a panic attack for me—sweaty palms and arm pits and shallow breathing on top of jet lag was not a great start. So I have been very grateful not living in a place where, until recently, I had to wear one much at all. During the times we’ve had to wear them we started bantering about the advantages of mask wearing—to ease the discomfort probably. I began to compile a list and thought it might be a bit of fun for you to see it.

If you wear a mask…

  • You don’t have to cover your mouth when yawning (handy)
  • You don’t have to worry that you have food in your teeth (my favourite)
  • You don’t have to worry if your nose is running
  • You don’t have to worry that there are foreign objects in your moustache (not me, personally…)
  • You don’t have to clean behind your ears (the bands do it for you?)
  • You don’t have to trim or wax your moustache (again, I’ve had help from a certain moustached person in my life on this one…)
  • Don’t have to tweeze stray hairs on your chin (yep, me all the way)
  • Don’t have to wear lipstick (me too, not him…)
  • Don’t have to wear makeup on lower half of your face (except if you are going somewhere you can remove the mask and then you have this kind of two-toned look to your face)
  • It helps to stop biting your nails (it’s just too obvious to flip up your mask to nibble a digit, ya know?)
  • You can whisper expletives and no one will know what you said (goodness knows I have to repeat most of what I say anyway!)
  • If anyone asks what you said you can clean it up and lie (ok, I may have done this once…)
  • You don’t have to worry about using breath mints
  • If you have a tongue like a giraffe you can pick your nose with it and no one will see (anonymous contributor–long spotty neck, tho)
  • If you lose a front tooth no one will know
  • It covers your mouth, agape, as you study the daily restaurant specials menu on the wall (c’mon we all do this…)
  • When you fall into that ugly sleep on the plane, you don’t have to worry about the drool out the corner of your mouth (contributed by a friend…)
  • When correctly fitted, a mask seems to hold up the ever drooping folds under my chin (ok, wishful thinking…)

I’m sure you can add a thing or two to this list. Or start another list of things not to do when wearing a mask, my personal favourite is ‘sneeze’. Don’t do it, very messy and gross.

The thing is, life is a very messy journey trying to figure out how one feels about everything, if they feel anything, even. Sometimes, having no response is what I wish for, because being highly sensitive seldom allows for that. I’m hoping you have some time to do whatever makes you feel peaceful and authentic in the coming months. I’ll be wearing my mask until I feel ok to remove it and not transmit covid to anyone, because call me late for dinner, but don’t call me prematurely de-maskulated.

(If you agree or don’t agree with mask wearing is not my purpose here. These are my views and a bit of fun and if you have your own views you can play along nicely or start your own blog.)

when I’m dead…

25 Sunday Jul 2021

Posted by in Inspiration, Life

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Why is it we seem to have to go to the brink in life to awaken to ourselves? I don’t know anyone who escapes life’s tragedies and is wiser for that lack of experience. We seem to learn the most profound things from those big moments and near misses. But once in a while, if we pay attention, we get a moment of clarity that raises our awareness and appreciation for life, without the suffering.

Life is full of work and things to be done, or avoiding them and living down a rabbit hole—I choose the first one most of the time. By the time I exercise, clean the body, feed our household, do the most necessary of cleaning jobs and get what sleep I can, there is comparatively little discretionary time. And these days one of my joys is thinking about creating things rather than life’s big questions, which if I were going to be able to answer them, I probably would have in my 68 years on this earth. But I haven’t and probably won’t. I think about colour themes, about how to discern value more effectively, and what effects can be achieved on which kind of paper. And about trying to be honest and kind, both of which are challenging endeavours.

Some days I’m lucky enough that my morning walk helps me see a new corner of the environment  to enthuse my painting sessions. In between all of the above I keep inspiring myself with new reading, listening and viewing of other artists’ works. One morning I was listening to a podcast interview with Andrew Greig, a Scottish poet and writer. I love a Scottish accent. (Must be genetic as my paternal Grandmother’s family was named Carlisle.) What captivated me was the title of the interview ‘When I’m dead, I will love this.’ He tells a story of running home in the cold and rain from the fish and chip shop, to keep his meal from getting soggy. And he thinks, as clearly as anything, as he is running, how wonderful running and a hot fish and chip meal would be if he was dead. I get it. It left me with shivers and tears on the rims.

We whir around in our complex world full of news stories and disaster and lists of jobs and people to please, when all the time we are doing the small miraculous things that humans do. We are spellbound at sunrises, marvel at nature, rejoice when we find a key we thought we’d lost, are amazed when our children are so much smarter than we were at that age…or kinder  than we realised. These things we know. They are right in front of us every single day and we forget to look. We forget to think, ‘when I’m dead, I will love this.’

Grass growing in rock – Ardys Zoellner 6/21

**This was going to be my last blog post. I had decided…or so I thought, I had nothing left to say. But after thinking it over the last couple of weeks I’ve decided this is the one place in my life I have the most control, where I can make up most of the rules. I even pay to keep the ads off this page so that you all won’t be dogged by those who glean data to try to sell you things. I won’t try to sell you anything. This is just my experience in the world for you to take or leave as you wish. I’m going to hang around for a while.

adjustments and such..

03 Saturday Jul 2021

Posted by in Alice Springs, Life

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At long last. I am vindicated for a lifetime of keeping a precautionary stash of pantry goods. That is, I’ve always been ready for a small famine. And now Alice Springs is in lockdown. This is the first we have seen of this (having been away last year in the Southern Ocean at the start of the pandemic) and I can’t help but wonder what the thousands of caravans full of visitors here for the good weather and the free lifestyle are thinking about now!

When we returned from our trip last year, the initial lockdowns and emergency precautions had eased. We were allowed to isolate in our home for two weeks. It was a bit weird but we adjusted. Since then there has been much more weirdness to adjust to. New protocols when entering shops ranging from all kinds of strange sanitising concoctions, to scanning QR codes for better contact tracing. New phone apps to install…some that actually work. We live in interesting times.

Our masks now hang beside our hats and scarves, as if they have always belonged there. The first morning I dressed for my walk in the 4C degree temps, I donned the mask and sunglasses and then tried to open my phone to start a podcast. Why wouldn’t my phone open? Ah, face recognition was not recognising me! Not sure most people who know me would have recognised me for that matter. On the mostly empty golf course walk, I did see a couple of parents walking small children, from a distance, a lone woman walking and another one in the far distance walking her dog. The adults were all wearing masks and I was buoyed that my fellow humans and I were all working together on this thing. Before the pandemic, we only saw face masks being worn by a number of Asian migrants and tourists in the bigger cities, and sometimes in Alice Springs because we get a lot of tourists here. Beyond that, most of us didn’t dream they would become necessary for our health, let alone a fashion statement. I have a collection of them. You can now buy a face mask with just about any kind of design on it you would like. I’m pretty conservative so I go for the simple things with regard to body adornment.

The first day of our lockdown was mostly a repositioning exercise. Given we had only an hour and a half notice, Don had to quickly pack up his desk at the Uni and bring home his work paraphernalia. Being I have spent huge chunks of time at home for many months, I could only speculate if the groceries I had ordered the previous day would arrive the next day, or if the hoards of panicked shoppers would wipe out the shelves—yet again. I scoured the freezer and pantry to loosely plan replacement meals in case the grocery items didn’t appear. Most of them eventually did appear, with a few substitutions and one ‘out of stock’.

For weeks we have had ‘temporarily out of stock’ notices for online shopping, so I have worked around it. Why? Because we have had literally thousands of people pulling their caravans up here from the southern states, where they hoped to enjoy the warmth and relative safety of the Northern Territory. What people don’t realise is, we are not like the southern areas where the shelves can be restocked from the distribution centres within a few hours. It is days, sometimes a week or even two before our shelves are restocked. To be honest, we have enough trouble getting goods at the best of times, and this is a bit beyond that. Which is why, I refer you back to the opening paragraph, and mostly try to keep a stocked pantry and freezer.

Don is on the greens committee for the local golf course. Since he is missing his normal rounds of golf, his version of exercise at the moment is to walk the holes and mark down the location of the valve boxes for watering. Not mentally stimulating but since the golf course has no record of them and they need one, he is doing a good deed and getting his exercise as well. One hour at a time, of course, because that is all we are allowed out for exercise. My exercise is housework and my usual stretches and morning walk.  So, nothing different. The afternoons are saved for a bit of rest, reading or movie viewing and some painting. Most recently I’ve been practicing painting lemons. We have a tree full so the reference material is to hand, but it was also a request from a special someone. I’m not doing commissions but I have told a couple of people I will notify them if I do something I think they might find interesting. Commissions give me the heebie-jeebies. For so many years I had to work for others whose agendas were mostly not invested in my self expression. Go figure. So these days I truly work on what makes me happy.

Who is that masked woman???

And just like that, on day 2 of our lockdown, it was over. A day early even. We almost settled into it and then there was a new normal. We wear a mask when in public and shopping but no longer have to wear one for exercise out in the open. It is precautionary, we have no community transmitted cases. My phone still doesn’t recognise me, but other than that the whole thing was of little consequence to me personally, and hopefully of good use to the public at large. I do feel for people with small businesses and families, they are the worst hit by these lockdowns. So this morning we went to our local IGA to do the shopping and put some money into the locals who own it. There is always some little thing we can do to help others, even in these unusual circumstances.

And there is painting to be done.

if I knew where I was going…

17 Saturday Apr 2021

Posted by in art, Creativity, Life

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Many times over the years Don and I have philosophised about golf being a metaphor for life. It is often uncannily so. Lately, I have been thinking of my journey with painting in much the same way.

Some weeks ago I painted a small experimental piece, based on a YouTube lesson I’d watched. As I was finishing it I tossed the pastel in my hand over into the little pile I’d been using and murmured to myself ‘No, no, no, I’m just not getting it’. I turned out the light and that was it for the day. The next morning I came in and looked at it with fresh eyes, expecting to loathe what I’d done, and instead realised I loved it. I had learned a very good lesson. My discouragement had been that my piece didn’t look like the artist’s in the lesson. Silly me, that’s not what I want at all! I want it to look like my style, not hers—and it does! It is not great, the composition is was not wonderful at all, but the ‘look’ of it is a step closer to what I have been dreaming of, and there it was right in front of me. I didn’t recognise it because I was so preoccupied looking for the other artist’s style.

There are many things to learn when one is creating. It is equal parts thrill and frustration. Frank Gehry, the well known architect, described it well: 

For me, every day is a new thing. I approach each project with a new insecurity, almost like the first project I ever did. And I get the sweats. I go in and start working, I’m not sure where I’m going. If I knew where I was going I wouldn’t do it.–Frank Gehry

For me it’s boring to repeat the same journey over and over. I too ‘get the sweats’ every time I start a new painting–as if my life depends on its success, which it certainly does not. Such is the standard to which I hold myself, the self flagellating behaviour I have learned, and am trying to unlearn. But once engrossed in the process everything else falls away when I get those colours in my fingers and see where both my conscious mind and intuition wants them to go. Being swept along in that flow is the payoff.

We need to explore our inner depths, solve new problems and gain new insights. Part of that for me has been the very basic task of sourcing supplies. The challenge of living in a remote area with few resources for art supplies has meant that some weeks I spend almost as much time sourcing materials as I do painting. A lack of good paper has been my biggest problem. I can order it and it will be here in two weeks, if I know what to order. Which I don’t. Until very recently, when I had completed enough painting on different surfaces to finally have a preference, I was stumbling around with this one. I watch videos and learn techniques for applying marks to a variety of surfaces. And then I practice. At this point in my learning trajectory it is hard to know if the problem is with my technique, or the surfaces…probably both! I’ve even learned how to apply a rough surface to smooth boards and papers making homemade pastel paper. Now, if the ordered supplies do not show up as scheduled, I won’t go completely without. It’s all part of the process and no doubt will change time and again over the coming years.

I’ve had a couple of worrying breaks in the process while we had more urgent things to attend to in our life. Always I reminded myself I only needed to return to the task for one minute. One break was planned–the pastel dust was a problem. I was trying to paint in the office with carpet on the floor–light carpet at that! So I made the decision to move out to the little space that is our ‘shedio’. Two thirds of the space is my studio and one third is Don’s tool shed–so christened ‘shedio’. It is not a glamorous space, but it is very practical and not unpleasant, having been renovated about ten years ago. It is surprising how far that journey is, however–those ten steps between the front door and the shedio door. And because of break-ins in the town I have to always lock the front door behind me when I’m in the shedio, and likewise the shedio door if I come into the house for a break. That transition happened a few weeks ago now and along with the new car, I’m starting to feel comfort with both situations. Always in the back of my mind, though, is the thought that if I feel pressured or lost, I only have to be there for one minute…no matter the result.

Gum tree looking over the MacDonnell Ranges

We don’t know what we don’t know. With every painting I am finding new problems to solve. Somehow the information I need to keep moving ahead comes into my life and I move forward one baby step at a time.

Sweaty hands, learning, solving problems, making preparations, small victories, crappy results, baby steps…how is art anything but a metaphor on Life?

Eucalypts at Simpson’s Gap

the slutmobile and the spider…

21 Sunday Mar 2021

Posted by in Life

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It’s been a busy few weeks since I last checked in with you, promising to report more on my revived creative journey. In those weeks our 18 year old car needed some repair. Covid conditions of shipping to remote places like ours proved to make that a protracted process. It was our only car so we hired a rental for a couple of weeks. When it looked like that wasn’t going to be enough, we quickly agreed, we deserved a new car. With the money we saved from the lack of travel over the last year, happily, we could afford it. And as it turns out, so can a lot of other people. The car dealer says they are selling cars as fast as they can get them into town! It’s interesting to see what areas of the economy are leaping ahead, while others languish behind.

Fortunately, our modest needs were only for a town car that was small enough to fit into most of the parking spaces at the grocery and other places we frequent. But after sitting in the smallest car we thought we would buy, the salesman said he had one that was a step up, both in comfort and size if we wanted to sit in it for comparison—a tried and true sales tactic, I’m certain. This salesman was very laid back and applied no pressure whatever, but he didn’t have to. The minute I sat in the driver’s seat of the Corolla it was evident the comfort and amenities were better. Since we are of an age which means it may possibly be our last automotive purchase while we are able to drive, we decided to treat ourselves.

Let me digress a bit. The aforementioned 18 year old Barina (Holden/General Motors) was purchased new when our daughter was testing to get a driving license. The agreement was that we would purchase it, in all its spearmint-metallic-green-glory, and that when she decided to purchase a car, she could buy it from us, knowing she would have a car that was looked after and that she could afford. There were a few errors in judgement on her part (and an obvious one in ours!) that meant the car had a couple of dings in it, which we had deemed a fools errand to repair, given that many people will open their doors and not care if they dent the car next to them. So the dings stayed.

Then one night our daughter drove the car to a party. Alice can be a rough ole town at times. Lately we have been all too aware of it as our house, and many others, have had attempted break-ins. On this particular night about 15 years ago, a young woman set her sites on revenge when she thought Allison was flirting with her ex-boyfriend. Seeing Allison get out of the mint green chariot was all the inspiration she needed. Allison returned to the car after only dropping off a friend and visiting for few minutes to discover the rear windscreen wiper wobbling at a very odd angle, the radio antennae broken off and the word ‘slut’ keyed into the relatively new paint. We knew who it was because as most criminals do, she had to brag about her handiwork to someone, and that someone was friends with one of Allison’s friends and by the next morning it had gotten back to us. But we couldn’t prove it. So we paid for the antennae and the windscreen wiper to be replaced but we were loath to repair the paintwork, for obvious reasons. Allison’s detractor was still in town and she had friends.

When Allison decided to buy a car, it was not the dinged up Barina she longed for, but a flashy, used silver Honda, one of the early hybrid cars. Right thinking, but wrong car and wrong time of her life to make that expensive decision. Live and learn, right? We have generally let her make these decisions on her own with some guidance but knowing whatever we tell her she must do, she would do the opposite back then.

So, for the ensuing 15 years we have driven the small mint green car, emblazoned with ‘Slut’ on the side. Fortunately you could only read the word when the car was very clean. Living in Alice Springs, a car is rarely that clean. Dust storms see to that. I have always felt it was good penance, for what I wasn’t sure, to have to drive the slutmobile around town for all to see. No one would claim I was living beyond my means, nor that I had exquisite taste, and I never had to worry about someone stealing it or parking it where someone would ding the paint! The years caused the paint to chalk and peel and the poor little thing looked like it was peeling from a bad case of sunburn. But when we bought the Corolla, they actually paid us $1000 for the 18 year old Barina, that was clean on the inside, generally in good driving condition and had only 54,000 kilometres on the clock! It will have a new life with someone else and served us well.

My deepest anxieties have been realised, however, learning to drive a brand new car with all the advances that the automotive industry has made in the last 18 years, not to mention that it is about six inches wider and about 20 inches longer than the old car. It really adds a layer of anxiety to my days that I could do without. 

Take the day recently, when I went to the grocery store…

In my relatively calm and controlled life there is not much that scares me more than a big Huntsman spider in the house or a deadly Eastern Brown snake in the house both which I have experienced…unless it is either species in the CAR! That morning as I pulled into the parking space (having backed in and was so proud of myself) I looked toward the passenger window and crawling down the outside of the window was a large huntsman spider the size of the palm of my hand. I tried to get out of the car quickly so that the spider couldn’t crawl across the car and get inside. They do bite but are not aggressive or terribly poisonous but I didn’t fancy testing that bit of scientific knowledge. And the shock of having one drop down from the roof of the car into one’s lap, could easily cause an accident.

I did my shopping and stopped at the pharmacy and by the time I returned to the car I’d forgotten about the spider. After putting things in the boot I came around to the driver’s door and there was that blinking spider again! Shivers. The only thing I had to swipe at it was my grocery list so I swiped—trying to get it off the car. But they JUMP. So it jumped back to the windscreen and across to the other side of the car again. I walked around and found it, cleverly trying to flatten itself out so as not to be seen. I took one last careful aim and swiped at it and it disappeared.The other worst outcome. Where had it gone? I quickly tried to locate it and thank goodness it was on the ground out in front of the car a couple of feet. I quickly got into the car and closed the door. Because I had backed into the space I pulled out fairly quickly and left Mr Spidee behind.

Clearly my days of penance are not over. 

Updating you about my continuing creative efforts will wait for another day.  Have a great week.