A Sip of Springtime.

The alarm jangled its way into my dreams this morning, but it didn’t seem quite so difficult to drag myself out of bed. The rising sun peeks over the horizon and creeps across my windowsill a little earlier these days.

Kookaburras share an early morning joke as I brew a coffee. I wonder if they are laughing at me fumbling about the kitchen.

As I sink into my comfy old chair, my face tilted upwards toward an almost Ceylon Sapphire blue sky, I find myself daydreaming of seagrass rippling in the current, as the breeze ripples through the gum leaves in shimmering waves. It trickles across my skin, cooling the warm blush from the sunshine as it climbs higher into the morning.

What is it about the change of season? The cooler tones of winter imperceptibly – but almost suddenly – transform into the more vivid, fresh, bright colours of spring. As beautiful and stark as winter can be, there is something uplifting about that touch of warmth as it encourages the birds to sing a little louder and longer, as it draws us out from under the blankets into the fresh air a little earlier.

I take a long, slow, deliberate breath inwards. The aroma of fresh coffee is tinged with the floral notes of spring time. I feel energised and relaxed, all at once. A change of pace, a change of routine and a change of season.

Do a Little, Rest a Little.

I recently spoke of the rhythm of life. Of how there is always that easy backbeat, with the occasional riff. I also mentioned that sometimes the backbeat can fall out of sync with life.

Well, this is one of those times where that rhythm skipped a beat, lurched forward and then fell in a heap! An unwelcome riff interjected, jarring against the faltering backbeat.

COVID-19 has finally reared its ugly head. Our family now knows what so many countless others have experienced before us.

We are a relatively healthy family. Perhaps that coupled with the fact that we are all at least twice vaccinated, seems to have held us in good stead. Perhaps general immunity levels and the evolution of the virus has seen it lose some of its “sting”.

We have been affected in varying degrees, with barely a sniffle for some, common cold symptoms for others, to a nasty flu type illness with a lingering cough and fatigue. Thankfully, for us that seems to be the worst of it – the story has been far different for many others.

Like the weather lately, my clarity and outlook transitions from bright and clear to cloudy and a little grey. One minute my thoughts are stagnating, and then the next, a free flow of ideas.

The rhythm of my life is finding its feet again, but for now it has also become a post-Covid mantra… Do a little, rest a little, do a little, rest a little.

Do you have a post-Covid mantra?

Keeping Nature at Bay

I can feel the turn of the season. The sultry humidity of summer is fading into cooler nights. Today as I glance upward, I appreciate the warmth of my coffee. The sky is rapidly transforming – the bright blue to grey, the grey to charcoal. The fresh cleansing scent of rain approaches on the strengthening breeze. The soil is already soaked but mother nature clearly intends to saturate it just a little more.

Isn’t it funny, ironic really, that we crave nature within our lives – as much greenery as possible both in and around our homes. Clean clear bodies of water within reach. The sound of birdsong over the screech of traffic. Fresh air drifting through trees instead of smog polluting our lungs… And yet, we spend much of our time actually keeping nature at bay!

We deny the nature of our bodies and the natural ageing process. We rip the hair from our skin. We both bleach and tan our bodies. We apply potions and lotions, and resort to surgery in the quest to preserve physical youth.

We love and tend to our gardens, and yet spend much of our free time cutting them back, killing the plants we don’t like and mowing the forever growing grass in an attempt to sculpt our surrounds rather than leaving them to grow as nature intended.

We build houses overlooking oceans, perched on clifftops and lining the banks of rivers, only to deny the water’s natural flow during a king tide, or a storm, or a flood. Keeping the water at bay with barricades of sandbags.

It just occurred to me that we have taken on an eternal battle with an ultimately foreseeable outcome. We seek to have close contact with mother nature, and the general populous is doing what they can to preserve our natural environment, yet paradoxically, we constantly find ourselves keeping nature at bay.

We may seek to control our planet and mould its natural components to our desires, but in the end – no matter what the outcome – the planet will win.

A Musing For “Man’s Best Friend“

So many times, I’ve sat with my coffee and listened to the symphony of sound (not always harmonious) that provides the backdrop to my day. The birds are quiet this morning, a breeze rustles the leaves, random drops of rain leave dusty smudges on my windscreen. A raucous whippersnipper is trimming garden edges somewhere out of sight, but not too far away.

Today will be busy, and as I take a moment to reflect over my “coffee on the run”, I look back on the life of my old friend, Max – our constant companion for over sixteen years. From pet shop puppy to cantankerous old canine, his loyalty was unwavering.

Max – or “Maximo“ as our old Italian neighbour used to call him – has led a full life… He weathered numerous Top End cyclones before heading south to dodge hailstones in the thunderous south-east Queensland summer storms. He stood guard over our three young children as they grew, until it was finally he who needed a little more looking after.

Those eyes, so heavily lined in the style of ancient Egypt, shone brightly from that warm caramelised tan face. Over the years those eyes became so cloudy he could barely see and the face faded to white, but the eyeliner remained, as did his youthful personality. Although few and far between, Max still had the occasional “puppy moment”, and the strength of character to assert his position within the family.

More recently he passed most of his days resting quietly on a cushion in our family room, until he spent more hours sleeping there than doing anything else. We all knew his time was coming, although we didn’t really want to admit it.

Finally, a few days ago, he went to rest on that dusty old cushion in the corner. The children were at school, my partner was at work and we were home alone. The rhythmic rise and fall of his belly slowed, as it did when falling into a deeper sleep, until I heard a slight rumbling snore. I gazed at him, suddenly realising that his belly was still…

His time had come.

Farewell Max – this musing is for you.

From Devastation to Regeneration.

As I felt the refreshing rain sprinkle my face while I walked this morning, I realised that nature really knows how to take care of itself – especially when we don’t.

We are always taught to sweep out our own homes, to get rid of the clutter for our own health, yet we don’t take care of nature by creating firebreaks, or allowing back burning and small fires to sweep out the excess plants and dead leaves – the clutter – from beneath the trees.

With all this buildup, like a house filled with dirt, dust and rubbish… Our bush, our forests and our plains become fodder for a fire just waiting to consume them.

Years of drought have left vast expanses of land and bush as kindling for the fire poised to strike. And strike it did. Huge areas – larger than some of the world’s countries – were left decimated by fire. Totally burnt out. And yet, nature has a way of healing itself. As our famous poet, Dorothea McKellar expressed, we have gone from a land of drought, to flooding rains.

When the smoke haze has washed away, the clouds have cleared and the blue skies return, not only will we see the devastation left by fire, but the rebirth of that very same land. Just as we will also see the true grit of our nation’s people as they rebuild their lives.