Sunday, 19 February 2023

The Cracks

They just appeared – the cracks. Seemingly out of nowhere, one day they were simply everywhere. 

Rivergum, once flush with flood waters, is again displaying the sure signs of the summer dry. Surprisingly though, because we expected the underlying layers to be well soaked. 
Hauntingly, reflective of our days however, as with each step, we feel the cracks widen. 
 
Each morning I walk through the paddocks and watch the ants scurry about their day often rushing into the cracks, or around the cracks -
busy, doing life. I do the same. 


The hens wait impatiently for me to be let out so they too can get on with their day without the restrictions of the night pen holding them in. They don’t appreciate that the pen is keeping them safe from the predators that roam. Maybe we can find a night pen for us too; one that protects the heart home. 

 The bees work methodically in the early morning dew, focused on the task assigned to their role, I must watch I don’t walk into their pathway. They will not veer away from their intended destination. So focused, they simply plow into my head. Maybe I should be more like the bees.
 
The cracks have become so large, some of the established trees are starting to wilt, some have curled up their leaves and given up. The dry is too much. We should have noticed earlier. The signs were silent. Like D they couldn’t speak. The mobile water tank has been filled again and we try to help with additional waterings, too little too late? Probably. Effort required to fix broken is more than what's in the tank. 
Maybe we need a new tank. 
 
The paddocks have been stripped bare. They lay exposed with no protection from the assault of the sun. The caretakers abandoned them, without reason, without warning. In his pre-autumn phase they crave conditioning, sustenance, an abundance of care. They too need to store goodness for the winter bare and future spring growth. 
Today, we relate to the paddocks. 

The cracks have appeared in strange places. Places we never saw them before. 
A storm came through the other day, and it brought rain and lightning and thunder amidst the intense heat. High intensity, short reprieve. 
We travelled to the city, experienced our own storm within the walls of the hospital. High intensity, short reprieve. 

Until next time,
N
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday, 3 February 2023

The Storm

The thermostat read 24 degrees; the wind was warm
Heading out, for a moment I savoured the warmth on my skin

 

I was alone; I savoured the freedom to listen to author interviews as I drove

I ignored the empty seat beside me, it was not supposed to be vacant tonight

 

The trees began to strain against the wind as I made my way east

I knew the storm was coming

 



My friend and I met; he noted my missing plus one; 

We shared words, both spoken and unsaid, over caffeine and cake

The trees were tall, unrestrained

The storm was on its way

The thermostat read 28 degrees 


The event - charming with chatter and reflection, optimism, and advice – 

for a moment I savoured the normalcy of the conversations

For a moment I burned with envy 

My phone buzzed, my heart squeezed, my reality returned

The unrelated sirens echoed in the distance; the sun had given way to grey

 

Slipping away, eyes stinging, disappointment drowning me from the insides

My fingers typed without seeing the letters- homeward

The car shook, I looked around, the trees were dancing

The debris swirled around the car

I drove into the storm

The thermostat read 19 degrees

 

Disappointment turned into anger as rapidly as my wipers could wash the rain away

The pools of water kept grabbing at the tyres, urging me to spin me around

The thermostat read 16 degrees

 

My anger turned into fury

The branches slammed down as the trees released their deadwood

Enough with the dodging obstacles

I could barely see

The thermostat read 14 degrees

 

My knuckles whitened, the curves came too fast, my foot was slow to lift off the accelerator

Find the brake

The thermostat read 12 degrees

 

I stopped, I remembered to breathe

Enough

I needed to get home

 

I see the lights

The rain is steady

The thermostat reads 9 degrees

The storm did not win