A letter to my sister.
Hi Tam:
Today New Zealand voted for love, 77 to 44 in favour of same sex
marriage. Today America voted for violence, 54 to 46, against
background
checks for those wishing to buy guns. In New Zealand the gallery
spontaneously erupted into a traditional Maori love song. In the US
Senate gallery there were calls of 'Shame on you!' as the vote was
counted. To me that about sums it up. The US has lost its mind. Some
American said something about how the rest of the world looked at the US
with bewilderment - how it seemed quite crazy, this fascination with
guns and gun culture. He or she was right. Can't speak for the rest of
the world but here in Australia, the US appears as though it's gone
collectively off its rocker. Madness twinned with paranoia fueled by
testosterone and steroids. Hate fueled by fear. Why so frightened?
What is everyone afraid of? Retribution?
When Martin Bryant shot and killed 35 people and injured 21 others at
Port Arthur in Tasmania the then conservative government was galvanized
into action. In order to own a gun you had to have a license. Hundreds
of thousands of guns were surrendered (there was a recent amnesty of
unlicensed firearms in which even more guns were surrendered). The
keeping of guns in strictly regulated. Richard has (licensed) guns
which he keeps in a secure padlocked cabinet. Ammunition is kept
separately. The police have been out to check that he adheres to the
regulations. Richard is very much in favour of gun ownership but
accepts with not too much grumbling the way things are in Oz.
And then of course you get the homegrown loonies like the Boston
bomber. I suspect you are right, Tam and he or she is insane. There's a
grown man up the road. He's in his 40's and lives with his quiet and
unassuming parents. His dad is a friend of ours. When this 'boy' gets
agitated he gets scary if he's not on his medication. The neighbour brought
Richard his guns for safekeeping when the son was having an episode
(over an aged cat that desperately needed, for humane reasons, to be
euth'd). That's all it takes. The parents are rightfully frightened of
this big burly 'kid' but can't/won't have him committed. Is the bomber
such a person? There are so many 'mad' people out there. Mad people
that are afraid and therefore find reasons to hate. Hate comes from
fear, don't you think? You can't hate unless you're afraid.
It's all so sad.
One of my favourite movies is Love Actually. I'm sure you've seen it.
During the opening monologue Hugh Grant talks about how when the planes
were going down during 9/11, the passengers, knowing they were going to
die, rang their loved ones to tell them they loved them. They didn't
ring their enemies to tell them they hated them. Love is our natural
state. Despite all the madness in the world, I still believe that.
And I love you,
Holly
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Wishing the Guilt Away
Was reviewing things I have wished for (with the sudden ownership of three Art Deco Club Chairs years after accepting I would never own one). Found a notebook with a pretty cover entitled Day Dreams in which I'd started to write a short synopsis of my life, desires and wishes. (There are many many notebooks with many many beginnings jotted down that never see a finish - a sad statement on my ability to commit). Several times I wrote that I would like to have a published book, a strange statement because I no longer write. Finished one novel and got halfway through another before being permanently distracted. Another thing I keep referring to is the need for solitude. I am my mother's daughter after all. Went to a neighbour's 21st last night - didn't want to go, wanted to run home and play with a new drawing instead of making small talk perched on a bale of hay.
Yes, a new drawing. I've felt the need to sketch. The pastel isn't finished. Haven't touched it for 2 days. Feel it's safe to leave it for awhile as I've got a handle on where it might go. Nevertheless I wanted a doodle. Something which I could play with without so much at stake. A pastel seems SERIOUS, while a graphite drawing is more PLAYFUL. Which illustrates a basic fault in my perception. There is no reason why a pastel can't be playful. I know from past experience that seriousness, the thought of consequences (what if it doesn't turn out?) freezes my ability to do anything.
At least something is being created.
Created. Isn't that a miracle? Making something from nothing, something which has never existed before and which will never exist again - whether it's a loaf of bread or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. That need to get something out which was in, even if what's in is only an itch which must be scratched and hasn't got a form as yet beyond the desire to do SOMETHING!
I beat myself up (what an odd picture that statement creates!) because I don't do more. Have to remember that because I sleep so poorly now (a side effect of menopause I suspect) and am often tired, I won't feeling like doing much. Despite this, when I stand back and look at what I accomplish I actually get quite a bit done. Guilt is just a natural part of my make-up. Where did it come from? I'm not Catholic. Sure would like to get shot of it. It's not helpful.
Maybe that will be my new wish. I wish to be free of guilt (not conscience, only guilt). After all I got a couple of club chairs.
Yes, a new drawing. I've felt the need to sketch. The pastel isn't finished. Haven't touched it for 2 days. Feel it's safe to leave it for awhile as I've got a handle on where it might go. Nevertheless I wanted a doodle. Something which I could play with without so much at stake. A pastel seems SERIOUS, while a graphite drawing is more PLAYFUL. Which illustrates a basic fault in my perception. There is no reason why a pastel can't be playful. I know from past experience that seriousness, the thought of consequences (what if it doesn't turn out?) freezes my ability to do anything.
At least something is being created.
Created. Isn't that a miracle? Making something from nothing, something which has never existed before and which will never exist again - whether it's a loaf of bread or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. That need to get something out which was in, even if what's in is only an itch which must be scratched and hasn't got a form as yet beyond the desire to do SOMETHING!
I beat myself up (what an odd picture that statement creates!) because I don't do more. Have to remember that because I sleep so poorly now (a side effect of menopause I suspect) and am often tired, I won't feeling like doing much. Despite this, when I stand back and look at what I accomplish I actually get quite a bit done. Guilt is just a natural part of my make-up. Where did it come from? I'm not Catholic. Sure would like to get shot of it. It's not helpful.
Maybe that will be my new wish. I wish to be free of guilt (not conscience, only guilt). After all I got a couple of club chairs.
Monday, March 25, 2013
I've joined deviantArt. Will take photos of most of my work and upload it. Why not? Be nice if others see it. Have already learned something. If it's going to photograph decently will have to make my darks darker and my lights lighter. Wimpy in life, wimpy in art. Make a statement!
Severe and damaging storms yesterday. Lots of damage in Logan Ipswich area. While walking the dogs watched the back of the storm march away to the east. Don't think I would've wanted to watch the front bearing down on me. Even the back of it was huge, terrifying and beautiful. Stark clenched clouds slow exploding into cerulean blue. In the distance wet clay slabs of grey rain pressed upon the land. On the way home we were helped along by the wind being sucked into the storm. Isolated groups of clouds joined forces, became one huge front.
When I got home, after feeding everyone, looked at the radar. Scary. Angry red splotches like sores scratching across the map. All to the east of us. After dark we got a downpour, 14mm in 15 minutes. Very pleased as we needed the rain but we didn't need damage. Lost power for an hour. Read The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler by candlelight with a glass of red.
Overcome by gratitude while watching that storm. Beauty, incredible wondrous incandescent beauty surround us if we only open our eyes. Standing beneath overarching wattle trees watching a dozen monarch butterflies flitting between the branches. Don't know what attracted them but what a sight it made with fluttering leaves and fluttering butterflies with roiling white clouds overhead. Didn't loiter long. Thunder coming from the west as well as the east. Don't mind walking in the rain, do mind getting caught in hail.
Dice-ing yesterday and again today. Repotted mature adenium plants. Amazed at what was hidden beneath the soil - huge hard yellow white, can't even call them roots, more like storage tanks with filigree roots sprouting off the sides. Had no idea. Repotted the remaining 14 baby adeniums. The table is groaning under the weight of baby adeniums. Have given away dozens. Overloaded friends and acquaintances with adeniums. Worse than giving away kittens.
Dice had me on the yoga mat during the hottest part of the day. Cleansing sweat I guess. But as I hadn't eaten I wasn't attempting a headstand on a full stomach. Eased back a bit on a few poses. Very sore lower back and pelvis. Don't know why. Better today.
Carry a small sketchbook in my purse. Used it to draw Natalia. Her upside-down-head-under-paw pose and mature-cat-dignified-nap pose. Caught her too, at least in the upright pose. Not just any cat sleeping but Natalia sleeping. The other sketch, as most of her face is hidden under her leg, isn't as clearly her. Pleased with them. Fun to do too. Only 5 minutes or so.
Conversely haven't touched the pastel drawing on the easel. Like the bird, like the horse...well the horse is okay, not perfect, otherwise stuck. Have these elements that don't work but don't know what to do instead. So keep retouching horse and bird and leaving the rest. Waiting for inspiration to bite.
Have a egg yolk painted gesso primed canvas waiting. No tooth. Need to make a mark and see what it looks, feels like. That will determine, in part, to what can be painted on. If it doesn't 'take' the medium, will have to keep it simple and sketchlike. If it does, what fun!
Severe and damaging storms yesterday. Lots of damage in Logan Ipswich area. While walking the dogs watched the back of the storm march away to the east. Don't think I would've wanted to watch the front bearing down on me. Even the back of it was huge, terrifying and beautiful. Stark clenched clouds slow exploding into cerulean blue. In the distance wet clay slabs of grey rain pressed upon the land. On the way home we were helped along by the wind being sucked into the storm. Isolated groups of clouds joined forces, became one huge front.
When I got home, after feeding everyone, looked at the radar. Scary. Angry red splotches like sores scratching across the map. All to the east of us. After dark we got a downpour, 14mm in 15 minutes. Very pleased as we needed the rain but we didn't need damage. Lost power for an hour. Read The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler by candlelight with a glass of red.
Overcome by gratitude while watching that storm. Beauty, incredible wondrous incandescent beauty surround us if we only open our eyes. Standing beneath overarching wattle trees watching a dozen monarch butterflies flitting between the branches. Don't know what attracted them but what a sight it made with fluttering leaves and fluttering butterflies with roiling white clouds overhead. Didn't loiter long. Thunder coming from the west as well as the east. Don't mind walking in the rain, do mind getting caught in hail.
Dice-ing yesterday and again today. Repotted mature adenium plants. Amazed at what was hidden beneath the soil - huge hard yellow white, can't even call them roots, more like storage tanks with filigree roots sprouting off the sides. Had no idea. Repotted the remaining 14 baby adeniums. The table is groaning under the weight of baby adeniums. Have given away dozens. Overloaded friends and acquaintances with adeniums. Worse than giving away kittens.
Dice had me on the yoga mat during the hottest part of the day. Cleansing sweat I guess. But as I hadn't eaten I wasn't attempting a headstand on a full stomach. Eased back a bit on a few poses. Very sore lower back and pelvis. Don't know why. Better today.
Carry a small sketchbook in my purse. Used it to draw Natalia. Her upside-down-head-under-paw pose and mature-cat-dignified-nap pose. Caught her too, at least in the upright pose. Not just any cat sleeping but Natalia sleeping. The other sketch, as most of her face is hidden under her leg, isn't as clearly her. Pleased with them. Fun to do too. Only 5 minutes or so.
Conversely haven't touched the pastel drawing on the easel. Like the bird, like the horse...well the horse is okay, not perfect, otherwise stuck. Have these elements that don't work but don't know what to do instead. So keep retouching horse and bird and leaving the rest. Waiting for inspiration to bite.
Have a egg yolk painted gesso primed canvas waiting. No tooth. Need to make a mark and see what it looks, feels like. That will determine, in part, to what can be painted on. If it doesn't 'take' the medium, will have to keep it simple and sketchlike. If it does, what fun!
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Mental Housekeeping
Overcast. A soft day. Later it will be hot, sticky and uncomfortable but this early (7am) it's still a balmy tropical morning.
There's something wonderful about being alone for awhile. Moving to my own rhythm, listening with an undistracted ear, moving through space without the gravitational pull of another person. I love it. I need it. Not forever. I want him home but the novelty is luxurious.
So what to do with this day? Not eat is one thing. I've learned to love cooking. What I cook I eat. Will be nice just to have liquids today. Plant the Black Bean tree in the yard where the summer heat and drought killed a small tree I'd planted a few years ago (put a dripper on it too late). Repot some other plants. Take Balthazar out for a pick. No work for him, just pick. Work on my painting? Read a book. Do yoga. Have another coffee.
Decided after my little scare of a few days ago that it was time to reassess what I was feeding my mind. Every day, through various email subscriptions, I was reading about the horror in the world; the cruelty, the mindlessness, the greed and because that was my steady diet I was, in a way, perpetuating it. There's the voyeuristic quality involved too - why people slow down at a car accident - which had me reading crap I shouldn't have. I know how susceptible I am. I know once the image is there I can never be rid of it. Animals Australia sent me a membership kit with flyers depicting, with graphic photos, the barbaric treatment in factory farms. Glanced at it, saw what it was and threw it away.
When I was 12 or so I saw an image of a starving kitten, dirty and abandoned on the street. The image was from some animal welfare group. I cried and cried and cried - and am tearing up now thinking of that long dead kitten. I can't take it. The wall is breached. The filter faulty.
So yesterday I unsubscribed from those groups. I kept Greenpeace, Animals Australia, IFAW and a couple of others but the worst ones (as far as my oversensitivity goes) are gone. I then subscribed to planet affirmation and good news stories.
I do believe we hide our Godlights under the delusion of matter. Our corporeal form comes, we think, with a license to behave like barbarians. Because we can affect matter, I suppose. It's more accessible than our Godlight or at least more easily perceived. We shove matter and it moves. Suddenly we have the illusion of power. The power of life and death, the power to cause pain, the power to accrue 'stuff'. But it's an illusion. But such an illusion! Yet the illusion is maintained with lies. I know the cruelty in the world is also an illusion - but it's one I can do without. Call me a coward. It's true. I am a coward. This small corner of the world I can protect - to a point. So I do. I love what is mine to love and for the rest of it, drape the world in imaginary skeins of kindness.
There's something wonderful about being alone for awhile. Moving to my own rhythm, listening with an undistracted ear, moving through space without the gravitational pull of another person. I love it. I need it. Not forever. I want him home but the novelty is luxurious.
So what to do with this day? Not eat is one thing. I've learned to love cooking. What I cook I eat. Will be nice just to have liquids today. Plant the Black Bean tree in the yard where the summer heat and drought killed a small tree I'd planted a few years ago (put a dripper on it too late). Repot some other plants. Take Balthazar out for a pick. No work for him, just pick. Work on my painting? Read a book. Do yoga. Have another coffee.
Decided after my little scare of a few days ago that it was time to reassess what I was feeding my mind. Every day, through various email subscriptions, I was reading about the horror in the world; the cruelty, the mindlessness, the greed and because that was my steady diet I was, in a way, perpetuating it. There's the voyeuristic quality involved too - why people slow down at a car accident - which had me reading crap I shouldn't have. I know how susceptible I am. I know once the image is there I can never be rid of it. Animals Australia sent me a membership kit with flyers depicting, with graphic photos, the barbaric treatment in factory farms. Glanced at it, saw what it was and threw it away.
When I was 12 or so I saw an image of a starving kitten, dirty and abandoned on the street. The image was from some animal welfare group. I cried and cried and cried - and am tearing up now thinking of that long dead kitten. I can't take it. The wall is breached. The filter faulty.
So yesterday I unsubscribed from those groups. I kept Greenpeace, Animals Australia, IFAW and a couple of others but the worst ones (as far as my oversensitivity goes) are gone. I then subscribed to planet affirmation and good news stories.
I do believe we hide our Godlights under the delusion of matter. Our corporeal form comes, we think, with a license to behave like barbarians. Because we can affect matter, I suppose. It's more accessible than our Godlight or at least more easily perceived. We shove matter and it moves. Suddenly we have the illusion of power. The power of life and death, the power to cause pain, the power to accrue 'stuff'. But it's an illusion. But such an illusion! Yet the illusion is maintained with lies. I know the cruelty in the world is also an illusion - but it's one I can do without. Call me a coward. It's true. I am a coward. This small corner of the world I can protect - to a point. So I do. I love what is mine to love and for the rest of it, drape the world in imaginary skeins of kindness.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
.
A few days ago I noticed, when walking the dogs, a particular feeling in my groin, an irritation, as though a pubic hair had worked its way inside me and was digging in. Didn't think too much about it until having a wee upon my return and noticing frank blood. Haven't had a period for 15 years so this was abnormal. Did nothing, said nothing, thought alot.
Richard left the following day for an errand in town. I was ready. The irritation was now accompanied by a feeling of 'fullness'. Can't describe it any better than that. It was as though I'd put on a few pounds 'there'. Once he'd left I got the hand mirror and the standing lamp with the flexicord. Put the lamp on the floor, got the mirror, dropped my drawers and had a good look.
The problem was, of course, I'm not familiar with that terrain. What was I looking for? There was no errant pubic hair. There was nothing that I could see save for a slight bluish darkness at the furthest reaches. Was that supposed to be there? Or was it the visible manifestation of something far more sinister? None the wiser, I pulled my pants up and got the yoga mat out.
The mind is a wonderful thing. My mind, when frightened, is a wild banshee howling incoherently in the wind. Even yoga was difficult. Kept forgetting where I was in the sequence because of fear. Fear of cancer. All that sex, all those partners. It was bound to catch up with me. All those years of smoking. All those times I wasn't nice, thought bad thoughts, did bad things, I was going to pay for my sins now. My mind had got the bit in its teeth and was off. Every lurid horrible detail; doctors, hospitals, needles, fear fear fear. In downward dog I thought about putting my feet in stirrups while some entity in a lab coat tut tutted at the most intimate and vulnerable part of my body.
I started to cry.
So I stopped it. Lay back on those reins and pulled my mind up short. This has to stop. I have always believed that you create what you fear. If I was going to fear this, by god, I was going to make it true.
In a kind of breathless panic which masqueraded as meditation I tried to fill my body with light. Between Half Moon pose and Trikonasama I created a whirling ball of white light and pushed it into my pelvis. Throw everything at it, positive think it right into oblivion, crush that mother with the weight of nonbelief.
But that was just fear with makeup on.
When I finally sat to meditate, when I finally pulled the over-caffeinated hamster off the wheel and breathed, the words, 'Stay Calm, It's All Right' came into my mind. I seized them like the rope thrown to a drowning man. And hung on. And breathed. And made them my mantra. After a while, I was calm.
I made my mind up about a couple of things. My health was/is my responsibility. No doctors. The revulsion, total revulsion of my being, against doctors and their offices, would cause more harm than any illness. Doctors are best avoided if possible. The next thing was, I can change this, whatever it is. I'm made of energy, energy is malleable. This creation, while loved and accepted, (yes, my thinking changed that much!) had to go, had to be recycled elsewhere. So every time I sat down for a pee, I visualized peeing this thing away. Not with hatred but with love. I'm not ready to go yet. I'm never ready for a long drawn out illness. I will die peacefully in my sleep when my responsibilities are met. Right now, Richard needs me, the animals need me, and I need me.
Today, no funny feeling, no blood, no fear but alot of gratitude. And love. It came to teach.
A few days ago I noticed, when walking the dogs, a particular feeling in my groin, an irritation, as though a pubic hair had worked its way inside me and was digging in. Didn't think too much about it until having a wee upon my return and noticing frank blood. Haven't had a period for 15 years so this was abnormal. Did nothing, said nothing, thought alot.
Richard left the following day for an errand in town. I was ready. The irritation was now accompanied by a feeling of 'fullness'. Can't describe it any better than that. It was as though I'd put on a few pounds 'there'. Once he'd left I got the hand mirror and the standing lamp with the flexicord. Put the lamp on the floor, got the mirror, dropped my drawers and had a good look.
The problem was, of course, I'm not familiar with that terrain. What was I looking for? There was no errant pubic hair. There was nothing that I could see save for a slight bluish darkness at the furthest reaches. Was that supposed to be there? Or was it the visible manifestation of something far more sinister? None the wiser, I pulled my pants up and got the yoga mat out.
The mind is a wonderful thing. My mind, when frightened, is a wild banshee howling incoherently in the wind. Even yoga was difficult. Kept forgetting where I was in the sequence because of fear. Fear of cancer. All that sex, all those partners. It was bound to catch up with me. All those years of smoking. All those times I wasn't nice, thought bad thoughts, did bad things, I was going to pay for my sins now. My mind had got the bit in its teeth and was off. Every lurid horrible detail; doctors, hospitals, needles, fear fear fear. In downward dog I thought about putting my feet in stirrups while some entity in a lab coat tut tutted at the most intimate and vulnerable part of my body.
I started to cry.
So I stopped it. Lay back on those reins and pulled my mind up short. This has to stop. I have always believed that you create what you fear. If I was going to fear this, by god, I was going to make it true.
In a kind of breathless panic which masqueraded as meditation I tried to fill my body with light. Between Half Moon pose and Trikonasama I created a whirling ball of white light and pushed it into my pelvis. Throw everything at it, positive think it right into oblivion, crush that mother with the weight of nonbelief.
But that was just fear with makeup on.
When I finally sat to meditate, when I finally pulled the over-caffeinated hamster off the wheel and breathed, the words, 'Stay Calm, It's All Right' came into my mind. I seized them like the rope thrown to a drowning man. And hung on. And breathed. And made them my mantra. After a while, I was calm.
I made my mind up about a couple of things. My health was/is my responsibility. No doctors. The revulsion, total revulsion of my being, against doctors and their offices, would cause more harm than any illness. Doctors are best avoided if possible. The next thing was, I can change this, whatever it is. I'm made of energy, energy is malleable. This creation, while loved and accepted, (yes, my thinking changed that much!) had to go, had to be recycled elsewhere. So every time I sat down for a pee, I visualized peeing this thing away. Not with hatred but with love. I'm not ready to go yet. I'm never ready for a long drawn out illness. I will die peacefully in my sleep when my responsibilities are met. Right now, Richard needs me, the animals need me, and I need me.
Today, no funny feeling, no blood, no fear but alot of gratitude. And love. It came to teach.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
14 March. Copied from journal.
Lionel still missing - forever more I suspect. He would've returned if he was able - or alive. Miss him. Grieve for him. Or would if I knew. Went through this before when he went missing. But he returned after a day. Nothing I can do. I loved him, tried to give him the best life, best opportunities, health and strength to best fit him for life in the wild. Unfortunately because of his attachment to me he kept himself aloof from other galahs, except in 'warning call' emergency when he would launch himself in flight and beat retreat with the others. He would've done that no matter where he was so what happened? Why can't he come home?
Matisse - a changed cat. Haven't had to clean up a spray or puddle of urine for 3 days now. He's sitting beside the notebook as I write. The prozac doesn't make him dopey or sluggish, it just takes that edge off his OCD. When I clean the kitty boxes and there are 3, sometimes 4 wet spots, I am overjoyed - well, maybe not overjoyed - but happy. Means it's okay.
He looks me in the eye again - not for long but at least he can (he's quietly purring, has shifted position so his head is very near mine). BTW, he weighs 7kg or 15.4 lbs. Also, have changed my mind about CRF - too fat and glossy.
Don't know if I'm repeating myself but - since Cornelius flew out the opening during the remains of Cyclone Oswald when the screen blew in, Tony has stopped speaking. He makes budgie noises but no longer says Pretty Bird, The Regurgitator, Tony, etc. I miss his little tinny tiny voice.
Have been working on a pastel drawing inspired in part by a photo in Baroque Horse magazine. Was beavering away at it then got stuck. Ground to a halt actually. I think I ran out of puff because I was copying. Tried to view it strictly as an exercise - maybe I became unstuck because of having trouble duplicating it. At any rate, looking at it, and looking at it and finally,while on the yoga mat and seeing it from an oblique angle, I saw what I could do so it's on again. I like it but don't love it - yet. I live in hope.
Waiting for Lee (the farrier). Have rugged the horses because the biting flies are so bad. Spray their legs with insect repellant once daily to give them some relief. Have never seen them this bad. Something to do with the rain coming so late in the season?
Speaking of which - the ants feel we'll get much more rain. Until the earth moving equipment, which came to repair the flood damaged road, flattened them, the ants were building tall spires, towers and fat levees. There's a cyclone in the far north which they expect to follow the path of Sandy and head east then south well away from us. The ants suspect otherwise.
Lionel still missing - forever more I suspect. He would've returned if he was able - or alive. Miss him. Grieve for him. Or would if I knew. Went through this before when he went missing. But he returned after a day. Nothing I can do. I loved him, tried to give him the best life, best opportunities, health and strength to best fit him for life in the wild. Unfortunately because of his attachment to me he kept himself aloof from other galahs, except in 'warning call' emergency when he would launch himself in flight and beat retreat with the others. He would've done that no matter where he was so what happened? Why can't he come home?
Matisse - a changed cat. Haven't had to clean up a spray or puddle of urine for 3 days now. He's sitting beside the notebook as I write. The prozac doesn't make him dopey or sluggish, it just takes that edge off his OCD. When I clean the kitty boxes and there are 3, sometimes 4 wet spots, I am overjoyed - well, maybe not overjoyed - but happy. Means it's okay.
He looks me in the eye again - not for long but at least he can (he's quietly purring, has shifted position so his head is very near mine). BTW, he weighs 7kg or 15.4 lbs. Also, have changed my mind about CRF - too fat and glossy.
Don't know if I'm repeating myself but - since Cornelius flew out the opening during the remains of Cyclone Oswald when the screen blew in, Tony has stopped speaking. He makes budgie noises but no longer says Pretty Bird, The Regurgitator, Tony, etc. I miss his little tinny tiny voice.
Have been working on a pastel drawing inspired in part by a photo in Baroque Horse magazine. Was beavering away at it then got stuck. Ground to a halt actually. I think I ran out of puff because I was copying. Tried to view it strictly as an exercise - maybe I became unstuck because of having trouble duplicating it. At any rate, looking at it, and looking at it and finally,while on the yoga mat and seeing it from an oblique angle, I saw what I could do so it's on again. I like it but don't love it - yet. I live in hope.
Waiting for Lee (the farrier). Have rugged the horses because the biting flies are so bad. Spray their legs with insect repellant once daily to give them some relief. Have never seen them this bad. Something to do with the rain coming so late in the season?
Speaking of which - the ants feel we'll get much more rain. Until the earth moving equipment, which came to repair the flood damaged road, flattened them, the ants were building tall spires, towers and fat levees. There's a cyclone in the far north which they expect to follow the path of Sandy and head east then south well away from us. The ants suspect otherwise.
March 11. copied from journal.
No Lionel.
Did our big Tadpole Rescue again today. R didn't want to drive the truck across the causeway so parked at David's. We've learned a little from previous rescues so loaded up with two buckets, a large sieve and a metal scoop. We were just in time too. Two tiny depressions of muddy water choked with choking tadpoles. Tried to get them all. May have missed some but not through lack of trying or looking. Some too may have been mauled/crushed by the sieve/scoop but we did our best.
It's muddy smelly work because finally have to dig in with hands to feel for squirmy bodies but the pay off is the release. Our dam is full of clear, tannin-dark water. It's a living ecosystem with resident ducks, grebes and purple swamp hens,. It also has at least one turtle! Releasing the two buckets of tadpoles into what must seem like heaven is the big payoff for me. The muddy water entering the clear water is like a brown mushroom cloud of muck. In this turbid maelstrom tadpoles, tiny wriggling shadows, lurch to the surface and then disappear back into the cloud. But if you stay and watch, the cloud dilutes, and the tadpoles emerge. They swim out to clear water and waves of them can be seen darting to the surface, pink mouths agape (yes, actually saw pink mouths agape).
Said to Richard, if we've done nothing else today we've saved dozens and dozen of lives (even hundreds?) Note: saw a few remaining tadpoles that afternoon when walking dogs. Went back after dark with torches and buckets and got them all.
Rode Balthazar in the arena. He was a little antsy - after all he hasn't been ridden for 3 months, but quite good all in all. Put a rug on him to protect him from the biting flies. They're driving him 'round the twist. Sprayed him twice before riding. It helped but didn't stop them. At least it's cool enough now that he can wear a rug comfortably.
No Lionel.
Did our big Tadpole Rescue again today. R didn't want to drive the truck across the causeway so parked at David's. We've learned a little from previous rescues so loaded up with two buckets, a large sieve and a metal scoop. We were just in time too. Two tiny depressions of muddy water choked with choking tadpoles. Tried to get them all. May have missed some but not through lack of trying or looking. Some too may have been mauled/crushed by the sieve/scoop but we did our best.
It's muddy smelly work because finally have to dig in with hands to feel for squirmy bodies but the pay off is the release. Our dam is full of clear, tannin-dark water. It's a living ecosystem with resident ducks, grebes and purple swamp hens,. It also has at least one turtle! Releasing the two buckets of tadpoles into what must seem like heaven is the big payoff for me. The muddy water entering the clear water is like a brown mushroom cloud of muck. In this turbid maelstrom tadpoles, tiny wriggling shadows, lurch to the surface and then disappear back into the cloud. But if you stay and watch, the cloud dilutes, and the tadpoles emerge. They swim out to clear water and waves of them can be seen darting to the surface, pink mouths agape (yes, actually saw pink mouths agape).
Said to Richard, if we've done nothing else today we've saved dozens and dozen of lives (even hundreds?) Note: saw a few remaining tadpoles that afternoon when walking dogs. Went back after dark with torches and buckets and got them all.
Rode Balthazar in the arena. He was a little antsy - after all he hasn't been ridden for 3 months, but quite good all in all. Put a rug on him to protect him from the biting flies. They're driving him 'round the twist. Sprayed him twice before riding. It helped but didn't stop them. At least it's cool enough now that he can wear a rug comfortably.
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