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MEETING AN OLDIE IS NOT SO PAINFUL. LINGER AND GIVE IT A GO
I invite you to visit also my literary blog: Journeys in Creative Writing where I post original fiction including short stories, poetry and 'Paternity', a full length mystery novel.
Sometimes tranquility seems elusive. Especially so of course when everything around seems slightly mad and surreal.
No wonder I needed a walk by a quiet river ...
This post is one of contrasts, parallel in ways to the nature of our sprawling nation, Australia. The wide brown land that is now in places black and charred and in others a sea of stinking water and dead native animals and cattle. And all when farmers are crying out for rain in so many areas.
The Victorian fires and their aftermath have been gut wrenching for two weeks now, and yet at the same time there have been floods to the north and south of us. Our valley on the Northern Rivers seems to be the filling in a sandwich of horrors.
These weather events have descended in a ferocity rarely known before.
There is an area of Northern Queensland bigger than many countries that has been under floodwater for more than two weeks, with homesteads isolated and dependent on drops of food.
This week the heavenly mid north coast of New South Wales was deluged by incredibly heavy rains and there are people there still cut off.
I took this shot from the balcony of a place where I stayed for a mental health conference late last year. It's in Port Macquarie on the Mid North Coast of New South Wales which was flooded out this week.
It wasn't the worst effected area, but the water rose dramatically. Mind you, it hasn't helped that the town has invited in the waters by carving canal developments over great swathes of the area.
Anyway, this morning I needed a quiet walk ...
I wondered who left a canoe tethered here in the mangroves, and imagined that it was one of an Aboriginal community living nearby. They knew how to live with the land.
These boys were having a fun time. I was also enjoying this lovely area and thinking that all was not lost when ...
We can't help ourselves can we? The ubiquitous shopping trolley - dumped for a human's convenience. No mind the blot on the landscape.
A little further on I looked closely at the bark of one of our lovely paperbark trees.
Currumbin Waters, Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia
I'm past my 70th birthday and undaunted.
So far I can look back on probably a dozen different phases in my life, all producing deeply felt experience:
- A barefoot carefree childhood in an Australian seaside town
- Work as a young journalist in the days of hot metal and male chauvinism
- Dipping my toe into real life in Sydney the big city
- Marriage and precious motherhood
- A second career in corporate public relations management
- Another marriage and disillusion
- Battles for financial justice in the law courts
- Re-jigging a career
- At 60 my first university degree (Creative Writing and Australian History majors)
- Fighting sometimes lost causes
- Sneaky aches and pains of the approach of age
- Living on a pension.
All fodder for writing and a valuable background for the development of what could become one day an incisive point of view.
My blogs may become a way of answering the question: 'What's next?'