The last day of March is here. It was a strange month for me. It didn’t seem to stop still long enough to make sense. I have an entire day at home until late afternoon when I am going to the 70th birthday party of the mother of the partner of my daughter. So I shall attempt to review the month and see if any sense emerges from it.


Living down here on the river flats, I get the mists rolling in during the night and lifting as the sun rises.


March brings me some pretty serious sunrises. Down across the paddocks.


I was up most mornings before Dawn. Just to sit on the front verandah and watch. Son the sun rising eases its way round to the North and my view will be blocked a little.


Round about the 7th march, the pump on the eco water system broke down and flooded the Cottage with Sullage. Took sheets and cloths and towels to soak it up and I hung them over the fence to the back paddock because they’re not going to be used for anything here again. I shall bury them soon over in our rubbish pile and they can break down into whatever substance they break down into.


The lorikeets come each morning for feeding. The Rainbow Lorikeets generally stay up on the higher trays and these little scaley breasted pick over the food that drops onto the ground.


The pumpkin vine took off all over the side yard and is growing near as tall as the Cheery Redhead and bringing in good fruit.


When the rains had seemingly eased for a time, I put a desk on the Northern side of the Cottage and a cover on the stretcher bed but the rains came back for a bit and I haven’t as yet been able to use the desk very much. The little girl plays out here a lot and the chooks come on weekends when they are allowed free run of the property.


March also meant KOOKABURRA. We have a batch of them here but this particular one has truly claimed the address. Its as cheeky as. I thought one day it was going to take on the tree snake right up near our front doors. I don’t think that it did but the snake was probably lucky.


After a  very wet summer, March brought blue skies and white puffing clouds. I attune myself to the Small and the Still and  clear skied days. The view here is not one with dramatic architecture or fascinating people. Its lowland country but I find it interesting in its minutae.


A couple of trees and a lot of sky. Seems to have been the main theme of the Month. Leaves me with the internal puzzlings and external simplicities.


Mid March, the Rosellas came in. I think they come close to being a favourite of mine. They don’t seem to have stayed this year. I don’t yet know the ways of the birds. That’s another reason I am watching the small things. We have had very big floods to the West of the Ranges and I thought it might impact very much on the animals on this side but I don’t see much change as yet.

In the years of drought, the Western animals come over the ranges sometimes looking for food and water down here. I don’t know what happens in flood time.


I went to one Recovery Unity Day up at Sawtell. The recovery aspect of my life is suiting me well here. Picnics in tropical parks at the beach appeal to me.


Spider, the little black cat, has come to live here almost all the time now. The stripey cat was found dead in the big shed. Could have been a snake. I have my parent’s motorised wheelchair thingo called a ‘pony’ for driving around the yard esp with the Cheery Redhead and the pumpkin vine continues its relentless progress towards the Cottage. Round the side, we have a soursop tree growing. Izzy bought two of them when some of the family thought that Susan had time to try alternative remedies,  Its growing there now. It has time but she didn’t. I knew that.


And my girl started University this year. Open University which is online. She is studying Primary Teaching. Sometimes she does some work at our table down here and talks with Izzy who was a University tutor. Most of the work she does in the shack after the little one goes to sleep.  My son is studying accountancy and he too lives in a shack. His shack is 1000km from here.


Its taken 2 years of living in the Cottage to adjust to the details which I don’t like. The white doors and yellow walls. I am getting a grip on it now. It seems a petty matter of taste but its more than that. Its to do with the mass production and generic nature of the white doors. No options or choices given. You can buy this white door with this pattern. That’s it.  I don’t like it. I am adjusting now. We meet with kindness here. Beauty outdoors and security and safety. For now, that is enough.


I go out to my Daughter’s place in the Bush, from time to time. She has wallabies and lush plants and bush all around. Old doors and old paint. I like that better. Old plants beautiful flowers.


March meant a lot of time at home with my own odds and ends. This is a little Parisian Bird. My brother bought one for each of us – the 3 siblings when Susan became ill. The little bird sings at the slightest movement. I have a sideboard here with many of her little bits and pieces on it. Mixed in now with mine. The oddments of life.


March meant soft grasses. Places for little ones to run and a good bit of bubble blowing.

020It took us with friends to No 5 Church Street, Bellingen to eat the foods I like. They booked Izzy to play music there next week. The month marched right on with me holding onto its tail trying to get a firmer grip. I never did get one. Looking back at images randomly is locating me somewhat.

The month is drawing to an end.



BALI the dog sat on the verandah with Spider the black cat. Most days. Looking for something to come.


A couple of days back, we went to Urunga and  sat near the Caravan Park. Rabbits everywhere – including this little white bunny. I’m glad it came along  when it did. Summed up the month of march 2012 for me. Its been like following a white rabbit down into the hole.



A month seen through the wings of a dragonfly and through a fall of curling hair.




Its not even a YAAN today and I’m not sitting quietly on the eBENCH. I am in a right mood, so I am. It is near the end of March. As Pratchett says

“I thought it  would be different.”

Perhaps I am as mad as a March Hare. I had best look in OPEN LIBRARY and freshen up my knowledge of March Hares.  Whatever it is, March has been an oddly disturbing month for me.

Today, I re-entered the world in which I am deeply disturbed by the callousness of society towards the weaker, the frailer, the sicker – the less able to cope. I was listening to my people today. The addicts and the poor and the single parents. They weren’t even whingeing. They weren’t even complaining let alone protesting.  They were still accepting the blame. But as for me, the anger rises and the tears of grief and shame fall.

For the man who uses the last of his petrol to drive to a charity to ask for a food voucher, only to find out that they are only open on Wednesdays.

For the thing we have here which is called volunteerism. VOLUNTEERISM. Compulsory unpaid work for 15 hours per week to get benefits of maybe $200 per week. It can be asked of you at 65 years of age if called for. It can be asked of you with small children at home.

And I weep for the young mother trying to get into a rehabilitation centre : $500 per week. A waiting period. Then I went along to get a script filled for a fungal skin infection. I am on a pension, said I. Out here pensioners get prescription medicine at a reduced rate – but not the fungal foam. $24. Just now, I live with izzy and we have enough to get by but for many years, I didn’t have enough to get by and I begged borrowed and stole to take care of me and mine. Filled with shame. Now I watch my people, the street addicts and alkies, struggling to get well against the same sort of odds and Old Rage returns. Old hurts resurface. $250 per week for a caravan. Shameful stuff.  I heard this week of a man trying to get a food voucher. He was sent from one place to another to another – using up the last money he had in catching buses back and forwards. I heard of a woman with children in desperate straits not being given assistance because she didn’t have a Centrelink form.

I remember. I don’t forget. I know what its like to be given a food voucher on bright green paper with a list of the things I was not permitted to choose – like ham or pet food or birthday cake ingredients for my son’s cake. I do not believe I will ever forget. I do not wish to forget.

Compassion is soluble in the urine of personal and corporate greed.

Anyways, its stirred me up.

Believe me: there is a class of us down here underneath : 

And some of us are FED UP.


I am so mad tonight that I could kick holes in the walls.

The phrase “entertaining angels” refers to the practice of treating all guests–be they kings or peasants–as if they were visiting angels.

“There is a well-worn road which is pleasing to the senses and gratifies worldly desires, but leads to nowhere. And there is the less traveled path, which requires purifications and relinquishments, but results in untold spiritual blessings.”

Peace Pilgrim: Her Live and Works In Her Own Words – Pg. 129

Certainly the trouble is not that we do not want peace. We have seen enough war, we are sick of it, unto death. The war has come home like a stalking corpse, tailing its blood, its tears, its losses, its despairs — seeking like an American ghost the soul of America. We want the peace; but most of us do not want to pay the price of peace. We still dream of a peace that has no cost attached. We want peace, but we live content with poverty and injustice and racism, with the murder of prisoners and students, the despair of the poor to whom justice is endlessly denied. We long for peace, but we wish also to keep undisturbed a social fabric of privilege and power that controls the economic misery of two thirds of the world’s people.



Chapter 5

5:1  Seeing the multitudes, he went up onto the mountain. When he had sat down, his disciples came to him.
5:2  He opened his mouth and taught them, saying,
5:3  “Blessed are the poor in spirit, For theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
5:4  Blessed are those who mourn, For they shall be comforted.
5:5  Blessed are the gentle, For they shall inherit the earth.
5:6  Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, For they shall be filled.
5:7  Blessed are the merciful, For they shall obtain mercy.
5:8  Blessed are the pure in heart, For they shall see God.
5:9  Blessed are the peacemakers, For they shall be called children of God.
5:10  Blessed are those who have been persecuted for righteousness’ sake, For theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
5:11  “Blessed are you when people reproach you, persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely, for my sake.




THE YAAN: Been thinking about the photo theme of the week and the post from WORDPRESS about things being seen through a frame.

Through. Often framing your photo’s composition through something else is the best thing you could do to it. It gives the viewer even more context into what your eye saw in that moment in time. Sometimes it modifies the entire tone or meaning of the photo.

I haven’t come across the Photo I want to use as yet but I am looking through my albums to see what strikes me. Today, I was thinking about the things that people, places and things go through. Like the video above.  The things we come through and survive. I have done much of that through that most useful frame of 24 hours – one day. Life wrapped up in a series of days. I spoke to one of my grandchildren as well – about life as seen through her eyes. Last week a car rammed into the back of theirs and she spoke of shock and fear and anger.  She is seven years old and was checking the spam to see where my missing emails had gone to. She found them too and added emoticons to the one she was sending to me. She lives way out in the Bush on a farm. Her eyes see through country life and through the 21st Century eyes of the Internet at the same time. Wonderful thing, the internet. We can see and hear Life through many other people’s eyes and ears.  When I first went to teach in a small school in the Bush, in 1970, we had to turn to slates at times when paper was low or the roads closed by snow, had primitive duplication resources and only minimal access to books. Nowadays, even when the car has been written off in a crash and the children are restricted to the farm, even with shonky internet access – they DO have some connection with a wider world. We can communicate. Their studies can be extended online. They can ‘chat’ with children from anywhere in the world. At the same time, the sheep and pigs and poultry are just outside their doors and the vegies are a growing. 

He knows the water best who has waded through it.  Danish.


Sitting on a Bench Unframed.


One thing I think I shall do is to wait a little longer and then check the Photo Challengers later in the week. I have just stumbled across some that I haven’t met before and I like their work as well as a couple of standout pics from some Bloggers I am already familiar with.





tony lynneTHE YAAN : I had a disturbing dream the night before last night. Rare for me. One of this nature is so rare that I don’t recall having had one in 24 years. It was about injecting heroin. It disturbed me and got me out of bed before sunrise and watching for the dawn. Times like that, grabbing onto beauty is one salvation for me.

This morning is a different matter. I slept well and deeply and woke undisturbed by visions past. Its raining and the lawns are mown. the paddock slashed. The kookaburra is swooping for worms. A touch of Autumn is with us.

This is my 25th year  away from heroin. I spent years looking through those eyes.  I saw many things in those years that other people never see. The thing is – I missed more than I saw. I lay in a world distorted chemically and missed out on seeing the world through the eyes I use now.

I prefer to look through  my own eyes.



THE YAAN : The new theme is in and I am in the mood for it this week. My head is clearer and I don’t feel unwell. Its been a happy week with the exception of the Son and his  Family being crashed into.

THROUGH has possibilities. For my first shot of the week, I chose the child looking through binoculars. What was on my mind was the World as seen through the eyes of a child . It seems to me that views of life depend greatly on what you look through to see it.

I finally managed to work out that I have a photo album plug in on the livewriter I use to write posts with. That means I can add the tentative images for a theme each week before choosing my final entry. Cool Bananas ! As they say in the North.

Now to take a look through the other Bloggers’ entries. I think there is a week’s worth of thinking and imaging in this topic so I had best begin with the insight of Others.



I shall do some more thinking about THROUGH. I didn’t read the first bit in the Challenge about an image having a frame. I’ll think about that. This week, I feel really out of my depth with the spectacular visions of some of the other bloggers and the great beauty of some of the images. I just look through the windows of my Landlords and wonder about life on the Inside.

libra full moon april 06 027

Thinking of the things I see through the windows of public transport and of the snake who was ‘just passing through”. Thinking of the world through the child’s eyes and through bubbles and windows.