October, all my bags are packed ….
The time has arrived. It is the time of year when, out walking, I look anxiously over my shoulder or scan the trees ahead for danger. It is the time of year for which I have been training these last six months. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is magpie swooping (ie. breeding) season. Read more
September — spring rituals in the Canberra region of Australia.
August — lives in the moment, not for all time. And for holidays. Read more
July — Winter. Fade to red.
I am the first to admit that July almost always represents the winter of my soul (not discontent; that would be going too far). At this time of year my mind tends to dwell on the negative and by some unconscious impulse, I dress in mourning. This year my existential July crisis has been exacerbated by some serious hypoglycemia incidents that I have suffered, leaving me wondering each night whether this will be the time I don’t wake up in the morning. So I often don’t go to bed. That’s tiring and ineffective. My little dog also requires a full-time carer. (That’s another story. Also tiring).
You know that feeling when you are so tired that you think it wouldn’t be so bad if you died but, at the same time, you want to cling on to dear life because your family, friends and animals need you? It is a conundrum. (My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, this is turning out rather more solemn than I expected. Also, Martha Kennedy has written a blog like this recently. Bear with me.) By some other unconscious impulse, I seek sanctuary outdoors. Made glorious by the sun and wind. (Sorry. I couldn’t resist). What did I learn? Read more
June – the Serenity edition.
June – you cast your spell
dappled greys through sunlit days
frost upon your breath
chill winds bring the winter solstice
earth tilts, turns
a ballerina in slow motion. Read more
Ah May … absolutely sublime but odd.
Weirdly, still bathed in sun this late into autumn.
Because truth in promotion is important (just kidding), here is an artistic shot of a plastic bag polluting the creek. Still, the light is nice.
Record May temperatures have extended the growing season for my tomatoes and the beautiful autumn colour beyond their usual best-before date. Read more
Take me to the April sun in Canberra (pronounced Canbra). In the words of George Eliot:
“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”
Daylight savings has ended. so we sleep in another hour.
Dear Readers, can you believe that it is already March? So here I am, commencing my second year of The Changing Seasons challenge. I’m feeling battered this month, like an incumbent government that is falling in the polls even though the economy is performing well. Don’t the punters know that they have never had it so good? I suppose that is because we don’t live in an economy; we live in a society, and there has been a fair bit of societal ugliness going round. So yep, although I want to crawl under a rock or hide in my own little “Canberra bubble” (sorry. in joke), March was mostly good for me.
So, let’s get started. Read more
My February Changing Seasons post will be divided into two parts. Part 1 contains the serious environmental message. Part 2 is more lighthearted.
This post contains images that may distress some viewers. Read more
My February Changing Seasons post will be divided into two parts. Part 1 covers the serious stuff. Part 2 will be more lighthearted.
February – in the dying days of summer, danger lurks.
The shrill wind blew of the calamity to come.
But no one was listening.
Did you know that the UN declared 2010 to 2020 the Decade for Deserts and has called for urgent action to fight against desertification? The main reasons are land-clearing for agriculture, over-grazing and other land uses (eg. mining), unsustainable land management practices and climate change. In a vicious cycle, degraded lands hold less carbon and less surface moisture. It is estimated that it takes 1000 years to generate 3 cm of topsoil and if the current rate of soil degradation continues, all the world’s topsoil could be gone within 60 years. No topsoil. No life. Read more