I just happened to have a couple of motion shots that I haven’t published and one that I have. Only three photos, so I thought I would slip in a poem or three. Enjoy.
Strong is mother’s instinct to provide. Strong is the instinct to survive. Run along, hungry bird. Run to mummy.
Showers came in repeated waves in front of frigid wind. On the pinnacle, leaves jostled for attention, but no one saw or heard.
The air shimmers with your power. The future is green energy. It won’t hurt you.
Patti, who is back from her holiday, is hosting the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge this week. The theme for the challenge is Motion. Click on the link here to view Patti’s wonderfully creative photos and to discover how other Lens Artists have interpreted this theme.
Take care, everyone.
Kind Regards. Tracy.
Quick question. Is it acceptable to mix my tenses as I did in that second poem? Okay, I fixed it because it bothered me but it lacks something now. It will do.
Reprise from August 2019 – the start of the fires on the east coast of Australia that traumatised a nation.
I don’t know why my husband and I felt compelled to stop at the old cemetery on that blustery day. We certainly didn’t go there to take photos. So maybe it was intuition, a guiding hand. The power of the robin. He. Red-capped robin. Read more
Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you.
It’s already Saturday here and I haven’t published my Friday Song yet. Better late than never, eh? This week I could tell you about all the stupid spending that went on under the last government, and that we now have nothing “nation building” to show for it. I could also tell you how this has left the new national government in a pretty pickle having to cancel important programs that ensure people sick with Covid don’t have to go into work in order to keep a roof over their heads. Yeah, tricky. It is especially tricky when you have inherited a huge budget deficit due to a lot of expenditure that hasn’t exactly been the best value for money for the country, and now have a huge budget deficit/ big credit card bill, at the same time as interest rates are going through the roof (lotta roofs in this thought bubble). And if you are not collecting enough taxes to pay that debt down because everybody, including the rich people, must have a tax cut – and in order for prospective governing parties to win an election – then those debt levels are only going to increase, adding to the burden on existing and future taxpayers, those few that are still remaining that is (including those casual but essential workers sick with Covid), and I’m not talking about the rich people here. I could tell you about all of that, but I won’t.
It’s July so you know what that means. July is when the dedicated, hard-working hosts of the incredibly popular Lens-Artists Photo Challenge take a well earned break from their hosting duties and co-opt five guest hosts to take on this important responsibility. This week, Jez from Photos with Jez, is hosting the challenge and he has invited us to share in his addiction for reflections and has dared us to see double.
June in Canberra (the Australian Capital Territory) – Winter officially begins. It has been the coldest start to winter since 1964. Opening the house to the elements due to household Covid infections made June a particularly cold month. Life on the outside was better even if it was freezing. The sun came out occasionally and reminded us that winter days in Canberra can be glorious. Here are the highlights, largely courtesy of my True Love who took photos before and after his Covid infection. The poor man still seems very unwell to me but he takes beautiful photos nevertheless.
It snowed on the ranges in the period after my TL’s surgery and prior to his Covid infection. It was bleak but we were happy, happy, happy.*
The majesty.*
Then life got more complicated so I snatched a few moments in the garden. My Eutaxia obovata (egg and bacon plant) that I planted last year clenched its leaves to conserve heat.
The galahs were contemplative.
The sun popped out and so did my TL and Pimelea physodes.* Lucky for us.
The Eastern spinebill chimed its arrival and stopped to freshen up.*
The prodigal Golden Whistler returned.*
The sun called me and I was off. T-shirt weather, baby! The brittle gums (E. mannifera) up the hill were celebrating too.
The Eucalyptus cinerea were covered in galls. Something should eat those.
By this time (3 hours later), I wished I had packed my jumper.
Finally, one last photo for my neighbour, J, who is home with Covid. You had visitors today. They seemed to be gnawing on your tree rather than eating the seeds.
Anyway, back to the Covid situation. Canberra seems to have the highest rate per 100,000 people than any other Australian state or territory (NY Times tracks this stuff but maybe their data is wrong). Perhaps the number of infections is only now catching up with the rest of the country? On the other hand, there are now 122 people with Covid in our public hospital. That’s 122 people with Covid in a public hospital system that has somewhere between 600 to 670 public hospital beds and a huge number of hospital staff off sick. At the same time, elective surgeries in the public hospital system have been cancelled again. By my rough calculation, 15-20% of our public hospital beds are being occupied by people with Covid, as they should be if those people need hospital care. These stresses on the system do not seem to merit a “business as usual” approach. Furthermore, several patients and staff in the cancer ward have also caught Covid on the ward. I understand that staff, patients and visitors are required to have a RAT test to enter those highly sensitive areas. If our experience with the uselessness of the RATs is anything to go by, then that does seem like a Covid breach waiting to happen. That’s my opinion.
Anyway, anyway, I send my best wishes to my neighbour, J, for a speedy recovery. Ditto, my friend, Martha, in the States. My TL is none too well and he is in his third week post onset of his infection. Who knows what July will bring? Hopefully, cake. And a few sunny days. And good health. Especially good health.
This is my response to The Changing Seasons photo challenge, jointly hosted by Ju-Lyn (Touring My Backyard) and Brian (Bushboys World). Click on the links provided to check out Ju-Lyn and Brian’s challenge and create some memories by joining in.
But enough of me, how was your June? I hope you found a space for things that make you happy and keep you sane.
Take care, everyone. Stay safe, be kind and be you. Kind Regards. Tracy.
*Photos preceded by an asterix were taken by my True Love.
May in Canberra (Australia) – Moments in May, momentous May, May in triptychs. But first, a poem, a kind of triptych of course.
May Change
Filaments of May morph and coalesce ‘twixt pearlescent rain and golden light, while rising power bills outstrip inflation.
Leaves and pamphlets flutter in the breeze. People power in technicolour. Rejoice! Winter is upon us and Australia is infectious.
Sadly, little bird flies the coop. Man in repose, rises. Listen, do you hear that? Tick-tick, tick-tick, as we turn the corner.
What does it all mean, I hear you ask? Autumn finished slowly. It rained on and off, but the sun broke through often enough to dally with our affections. Jack Frost flirted, adding impetus to deciduous trees still reluctant to toss aside their colourful costumes. The wildlife has begun jockeying for power and has cleared out the pantry in preparation for next Spring’s bounty. There was, nevertheless, time for bathing. Speaking of bathing, a national election was held. The government changed amid pledges of a new, kinder, more collaborative polity in the future. My True Love survived his surgery. Our canary, Pan of the Wild Music, died. I got hearing aids today. I wish I could have heard Pan sing one last time. Apparently, I still don’t listen to my husband.
Triptych – black and white theme for the magpie juveniles who still haven’t left home.
Triptych – Crimson theme for crimson rosellas bathing.
Triptych – multicoloured mixed feelings.
Winter is now upon us. As I returned from my hearing aid fitting, the Brindabella range was shrouded in snow clouds. Rain hammered loudly on the windscreen. We’ve definitely turned a corner. It sounds like tick-tick, tick-tick.
Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you.
Today my choice for Friday song day is I Feel Love, written by Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellopertte, and performed by Donna Summer. It was inevitable that I would choose this song one day. It was Pan of the Wild Music’s favourite song. We played this song for Pan two days ago when my True Love got out of hospital. Pan, our last little, old canary, died this morning. Some time during the night he had a stroke. He was incapacitated and we took him to the vet this morning and ended his suffering.
Pan’s life was eventful, full of adventure and narrow escapes, song and good friends. I will share his story separately when I’ve had a few days to collect myself. He deserves that. My youngest son dug Pan’s grave. My husband would have liked to have done this one last thing for Pan but he was unable to because of his surgery. As is our practice, we buried him with three coins to pay Charon, the ferryman. A magpie perched on the powerline above us and sung him out.
Let’s listen to Pan’s song now.
The world seems full of anger and sorrow at the moment, ladies and gentlemen. Our fury and narcissism demean life. Love and kindness bring us together. I hope one day that we can all join together in song.
It rained overnight here but the sun came out this afternoon. Pan loved to sing in the morning and bask in the afternoon sun.
Ravenous is a great word, don’t you think? There is something quite primal, urgent and debased about it. Or at least, that was its historical context but, at least outside of the bedroom, it is a word that has now attained some respectability and simply means very hungry. According to Mirriam-Webster, the noun “raven” (black bird) and the verb “raven” (from which the adjective “ravenous” is derived) are unrelated. They are homographs, which is a shame because I have a ravenous raven story. This is your chance, squeamish readers, to skip this story.
Reflections of An Untidy Mind 