Some time ago I had two people over to my home in Australia to join me for morning tea.
A carryover from Britain's influence in Australia, morning tea is also known as "smoko" among the working class, whether one smokes or not. It occurs between 10 and 11 a.m., for about 15 minutes, just before lunch.
Afternoon tea, also called smoko is between 3 and 4 p.m. Tea or coffee is served with some sort of bickie (cookie) or sweatbread pastry.
But I've digressed already.
Denise and Noesja (say NOO-sha) were my visitors. I poured American fresh-ground coffee with American creamer I purchased from an American specialty store. They brought a cream and almond-filled pastry bread of some sort from a local bakery which sent my system into sugar overload.
The three of us chatted for the better part of the morning about life, love, and a few other things.
During the course of our visit, I pondered something: I am American, Denise is British, and Noesja is white South African. Not an Australian among us.
Our conversation was varied, with all of our accents filling my home. Our discourse was interesting because of our subtle cultural differences. Politics, religion, family, relationships, childhood...so very different from each other's outlook.
Until I left American shores, I hadn't ever met anyone who had lived outside of my American circle except for at church on missionary Sundays.
How sheltered I had been.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sometimes...
I know that sometimes my postings can be fairly disturbing. I get into deep thoughts and emotions and say things that people aren't used to reading, especially from me, much less thinking about on their own.
But the fact is, life is often harder than it is easy...and there are not many people that are close to me that haven't experienced hard changes in life on some form or other. I rather like it that way. These kinds of people have deep souls. Therefore, trivial things don't matter much.
So...sometimes I write or copy my own journals from years gone by with my own thoughts, and sometimes it's someone else's journey I write about.
You don't need to know which it is when I post.
Just read, digest, ponder, and see if there is something in the written word that strikes a chord in you. If not, then pray for those of us who sometimes struggle, yet find joy in little things, such as a kiss on the cheek from a child who trusts, or a work-worn, elderly hand that clasps ours in a gesture of kindness and understanding.
Heidi
But the fact is, life is often harder than it is easy...and there are not many people that are close to me that haven't experienced hard changes in life on some form or other. I rather like it that way. These kinds of people have deep souls. Therefore, trivial things don't matter much.
So...sometimes I write or copy my own journals from years gone by with my own thoughts, and sometimes it's someone else's journey I write about.
You don't need to know which it is when I post.
Just read, digest, ponder, and see if there is something in the written word that strikes a chord in you. If not, then pray for those of us who sometimes struggle, yet find joy in little things, such as a kiss on the cheek from a child who trusts, or a work-worn, elderly hand that clasps ours in a gesture of kindness and understanding.
Heidi
Morning Drive
I couldn't help myself.
Australia is heading into autumn (they don't call it "fall" here) and the mornings can be crisply beautiful, with afternoons heading into the low 80s...feels like a Pacific Northwest Indian Summer. (I've had to explain what that means to a few people. Indians here are natives from India...otherwise there are Aborigines. But I digress.)
One morning was so clear and cold that I headed for the nearby State Forest shortly after Steve left for work at 7:30 a.m.
In the early morning, buttery, slanting sunlight I saw wallabys bounding across roads and into bushy areas, kookaburras flitting from gum tree to gum tree and quiet water in ponds surrounded by reeds and filled with algae.
I took deep breaths of the eucalyptus-scented woods and smiled.
Here are a few photos from that morning.
Dead snags in pond.
Discarded tire in foreground, ducks swimming in background on right.
Enhanced photo of red dirt road. The sunlight here can be harsh even in the morning, and the photo was washed out. I enhanced the color a bit to make it truer to what I saw, but it's still not accurate.
This just cracked me up. Aross Australia, these kinds of signs are common, including "chook poo" which means chicken "whatever."
Perfectly mirrored pond with algae in foreground. But in reality the trees were really green.
Come to Australia! I'll show you my favorite spots.
Australia is heading into autumn (they don't call it "fall" here) and the mornings can be crisply beautiful, with afternoons heading into the low 80s...feels like a Pacific Northwest Indian Summer. (I've had to explain what that means to a few people. Indians here are natives from India...otherwise there are Aborigines. But I digress.)
One morning was so clear and cold that I headed for the nearby State Forest shortly after Steve left for work at 7:30 a.m.
In the early morning, buttery, slanting sunlight I saw wallabys bounding across roads and into bushy areas, kookaburras flitting from gum tree to gum tree and quiet water in ponds surrounded by reeds and filled with algae.
I took deep breaths of the eucalyptus-scented woods and smiled.
Here are a few photos from that morning.
Dead snags in pond.
Discarded tire in foreground, ducks swimming in background on right.
Enhanced photo of red dirt road. The sunlight here can be harsh even in the morning, and the photo was washed out. I enhanced the color a bit to make it truer to what I saw, but it's still not accurate.
This just cracked me up. Aross Australia, these kinds of signs are common, including "chook poo" which means chicken "whatever."
Perfectly mirrored pond with algae in foreground. But in reality the trees were really green.
Come to Australia! I'll show you my favorite spots.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Woman waiting
A woman who is bereft of kindness
from churchy people
is in her church;
she stands alone.
Couples with young children
And couples with older children
grown and gone
drift together
and drift apart
and join a disjointed circle
before the service.
They clasp hands in
fellowship over
coffee and tea
and stale cookies.
But she drifts alone
from couple to couple
who have no idea
how to talk to her.
She's different.
She's outside the
comfort zone.
She thinks,
"Here I go again,
another try.
I sit in church and wonder why.
I wait, and wait
For Bible learning to begin
But waiting for so much more.
I'm waiting for my soul to wake up;
A touch from God;
The sure knowledge of His Presence.
Is anyone listening to me?"
from churchy people
is in her church;
she stands alone.
Couples with young children
And couples with older children
grown and gone
drift together
and drift apart
and join a disjointed circle
before the service.
They clasp hands in
fellowship over
coffee and tea
and stale cookies.
But she drifts alone
from couple to couple
who have no idea
how to talk to her.
She's different.
She's outside the
comfort zone.
She thinks,
"Here I go again,
another try.
I sit in church and wonder why.
I wait, and wait
For Bible learning to begin
But waiting for so much more.
I'm waiting for my soul to wake up;
A touch from God;
The sure knowledge of His Presence.
Is anyone listening to me?"
Abused women
(I'm compiling information for a book on domestic abuse. This is NOT my life now.)
I am trying.
Yes, I know that I am trying,
as some attempting humor would say.
Perhaps I should say attempting.
I am attempting to put into words what women suffer sometimes in marriages or partnerships where feminine hearts and minds and bodies are battered and children are left wondering where their safest place is.
The answer to this question is so deep that there are no depth-finders adequate enough.
Church leaders think it is so easy, so simple.
"God hates divorce" they say.
"If you submit, he will be better," they say.
"If you were the wife he needed, he wouldn't have to look outside the marriage," they say.
"If he's not happy, it's your fault. Are you submitting?"
"Submit."
But God doesn't like murder either, or violence toward women and children, or adultery.
Church leaders forget that.
Why?
Violence isn't just physical.
Violent people target the heart,
the mind,
the psyche of who the person is.
Here is someone's heart cry from late August 2000;
a Christian woman, a wife...
someone who loves God...
She is someone that church leaders say should
try harder.
After all, his response,
the husband's reaction,
for good or bad
is her fault.
Because he's the man.
He should be submitted to,
according to the Bible.
At the end of her rope
of sanity and self-respect,
this once desireable woman
full of life and hope
and laughter and song
and dancing and smiles
and artistic talent
and possibility and fun
and old-fashioned, harmless mischief
for the next 50 years of her life
says,
"This is what I deserve,
This is what I have earned;
to be alone
to be unimportant
to never be first in someone's life
to always wear my heart on my sleeve
just to have it torn off.
Boot in the ribs
axe on the neck
point of sword to the back
on the edge of a cliff...
JUMP!
I am trying.
Yes, I know that I am trying,
as some attempting humor would say.
Perhaps I should say attempting.
I am attempting to put into words what women suffer sometimes in marriages or partnerships where feminine hearts and minds and bodies are battered and children are left wondering where their safest place is.
The answer to this question is so deep that there are no depth-finders adequate enough.
Church leaders think it is so easy, so simple.
"God hates divorce" they say.
"If you submit, he will be better," they say.
"If you were the wife he needed, he wouldn't have to look outside the marriage," they say.
"If he's not happy, it's your fault. Are you submitting?"
"Submit."
But God doesn't like murder either, or violence toward women and children, or adultery.
Church leaders forget that.
Why?
Violence isn't just physical.
Violent people target the heart,
the mind,
the psyche of who the person is.
Here is someone's heart cry from late August 2000;
a Christian woman, a wife...
someone who loves God...
She is someone that church leaders say should
try harder.
After all, his response,
the husband's reaction,
for good or bad
is her fault.
Because he's the man.
He should be submitted to,
according to the Bible.
At the end of her rope
of sanity and self-respect,
this once desireable woman
full of life and hope
and laughter and song
and dancing and smiles
and artistic talent
and possibility and fun
and old-fashioned, harmless mischief
for the next 50 years of her life
says,
"This is what I deserve,
This is what I have earned;
to be alone
to be unimportant
to never be first in someone's life
to always wear my heart on my sleeve
just to have it torn off.
Boot in the ribs
axe on the neck
point of sword to the back
on the edge of a cliff...
JUMP!
Journal from August 12, 2000
August 12, 2000
"Four days in Lincoln City, Oregon.
"That's what it took to relax my tense face, free up my mind, unwind my nerves.
I'm on day two of my escape--lying on the beach on Kim's little red blanket with her toes near the book I'm writing in. She is also writing. She's good, too. I think someday she'll show me up, but she doesn't think so. Jason also shows signs of surpassing me in writing and literature, but he's off down the beach. I don't know how to encourage him.
"I love this place. Maybe it's the perfect weather. Sunny, just right-warm, a cool breeze, uncrowded beach, a room in a little motel off the road sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea with rocks and tidepools 50 yards away. Jason and Kim are getting along. I love the slow pace, the salty air, the smell.
"Last night we ate at Mo's, a famous Pacific northwest-coast seafood place. Fun atmosphere! We sat at picnic bench tables near a window, next to an odd-looking couple. The girl was a "normal looking" teen with a pleasant face, no makeup, and rather stringy brown hair. Her companion was a handsome young boy with a short haircut, nicely dressed...with a large spike protruding from his lower lip. I wonder if they kiss? Does it hurt?
Later...
"The sand is so soft under my toes it feels like satin. Hard to imagine this is pulverized rock over centuries. Yet one of these tiny, insignificant pieces of sand can wreak havoc in an eyeball. What a concept.
"After dinner, Kim and I took a walk on the beach in time to see the orange ball of sun sink below the horizon. We watched until the last of its fiery rim slipped into a watery grave. We saw the foamy, sparkly ledges of orange-tinted, ripply waves as they crested, seemingly infused with light as if from underneath. It was eerily beautiful.
"As purplish dusk settled, we stood on the smoothed-over piles of rocks and watched the paths of waves as they followed the worn-smooth curves and channels. A little farther down the beach we heard a strange, high-pitched sound and in the growing dusk saw a flock of shorebirds on a rock, silhouetted against a pale tangerine sky and a few strips of fading, violet clouds.
"From our room the view is fabulous. It's the first thing we saw when we came in burdened with duffle bags and backpacks...a late summer expanse of green and blue ocean. Jason and Kim and I slept with the window open and listened to the sound of the sea crashing on sand. I slept so deep and woke so refreshed, I nearly thought it was the third day of vacation and time to go home.
"Last night bonfires dotted the beach in a haphazard line, and the fragrance of driftwood mingled with the salty night air. Beachgoers lit fireworks into the inky sky just as the moon crested the eastern horizon. The moon, like a creamy magnolia blossom, slowly sailed over Spanish Head to the south in full bloom.
"During this time away we also went to the Oregon aquarium in Newport to see "Passages of the Deep." Three sections portrayed three aspects of the sea with acrylic walls each and a ceiling tunnel with a long, oval window set in the floor. Each section is about 20 feet long but all around, above and beneath are ocean critters.
"I liked seeing the sharks and manta rays best. In another exhibit there are myriad jellyfish--very impressive. Jason and Kim loved it.
"Later that evening when Jason and Kim and I took a walk, we found washed-up pieces of jellyfish. One had a long tentacle still attached. Kim wrapped it up in her sock and took it to show Jason. He fingered it for a few seconds and Kim very quietly said, "BZZZZZZZ."
"Jason jumped back at least a foot and flung his hand away--it was hilarious! He's much better now at taking a joke than he used to be. We had a really good laugh. I couldn't stop giggling.
"Today was spent mostly shopping. I dropped Jason off at the skateboard park then Kim and I went to a little gift shop where she bought her friends a few trinkets. I got some shells for a bathroom basket at home.
"After we picked Jason up, we went school clothes shopping. Lunch at a cute little sub shop. More skating for Jason; Kim and I headed to the beach.
"The sun is warm, the tide is going out. There aren't too many people now, and I like it that way. Some kites are still aloft like so many butterflies. A nearby kite shop has several on display. There is one like a huge, spinning kaleidescope tunnel with fringe, another like a parachute, and long, skinny kites like an army of worms. Kim laughs when I tell her what I see.
"It looks to me like Lincoln City is the place to be in August. No fog, no clouds, perfect everything.
"Except that I hate mirrors. I wish I was skinny."
"Four days in Lincoln City, Oregon.
"That's what it took to relax my tense face, free up my mind, unwind my nerves.
I'm on day two of my escape--lying on the beach on Kim's little red blanket with her toes near the book I'm writing in. She is also writing. She's good, too. I think someday she'll show me up, but she doesn't think so. Jason also shows signs of surpassing me in writing and literature, but he's off down the beach. I don't know how to encourage him.
"I love this place. Maybe it's the perfect weather. Sunny, just right-warm, a cool breeze, uncrowded beach, a room in a little motel off the road sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea with rocks and tidepools 50 yards away. Jason and Kim are getting along. I love the slow pace, the salty air, the smell.
"Last night we ate at Mo's, a famous Pacific northwest-coast seafood place. Fun atmosphere! We sat at picnic bench tables near a window, next to an odd-looking couple. The girl was a "normal looking" teen with a pleasant face, no makeup, and rather stringy brown hair. Her companion was a handsome young boy with a short haircut, nicely dressed...with a large spike protruding from his lower lip. I wonder if they kiss? Does it hurt?
Later...
"The sand is so soft under my toes it feels like satin. Hard to imagine this is pulverized rock over centuries. Yet one of these tiny, insignificant pieces of sand can wreak havoc in an eyeball. What a concept.
"After dinner, Kim and I took a walk on the beach in time to see the orange ball of sun sink below the horizon. We watched until the last of its fiery rim slipped into a watery grave. We saw the foamy, sparkly ledges of orange-tinted, ripply waves as they crested, seemingly infused with light as if from underneath. It was eerily beautiful.
"As purplish dusk settled, we stood on the smoothed-over piles of rocks and watched the paths of waves as they followed the worn-smooth curves and channels. A little farther down the beach we heard a strange, high-pitched sound and in the growing dusk saw a flock of shorebirds on a rock, silhouetted against a pale tangerine sky and a few strips of fading, violet clouds.
"From our room the view is fabulous. It's the first thing we saw when we came in burdened with duffle bags and backpacks...a late summer expanse of green and blue ocean. Jason and Kim and I slept with the window open and listened to the sound of the sea crashing on sand. I slept so deep and woke so refreshed, I nearly thought it was the third day of vacation and time to go home.
"Last night bonfires dotted the beach in a haphazard line, and the fragrance of driftwood mingled with the salty night air. Beachgoers lit fireworks into the inky sky just as the moon crested the eastern horizon. The moon, like a creamy magnolia blossom, slowly sailed over Spanish Head to the south in full bloom.
"During this time away we also went to the Oregon aquarium in Newport to see "Passages of the Deep." Three sections portrayed three aspects of the sea with acrylic walls each and a ceiling tunnel with a long, oval window set in the floor. Each section is about 20 feet long but all around, above and beneath are ocean critters.
"I liked seeing the sharks and manta rays best. In another exhibit there are myriad jellyfish--very impressive. Jason and Kim loved it.
"Later that evening when Jason and Kim and I took a walk, we found washed-up pieces of jellyfish. One had a long tentacle still attached. Kim wrapped it up in her sock and took it to show Jason. He fingered it for a few seconds and Kim very quietly said, "BZZZZZZZ."
"Jason jumped back at least a foot and flung his hand away--it was hilarious! He's much better now at taking a joke than he used to be. We had a really good laugh. I couldn't stop giggling.
"Today was spent mostly shopping. I dropped Jason off at the skateboard park then Kim and I went to a little gift shop where she bought her friends a few trinkets. I got some shells for a bathroom basket at home.
"After we picked Jason up, we went school clothes shopping. Lunch at a cute little sub shop. More skating for Jason; Kim and I headed to the beach.
"The sun is warm, the tide is going out. There aren't too many people now, and I like it that way. Some kites are still aloft like so many butterflies. A nearby kite shop has several on display. There is one like a huge, spinning kaleidescope tunnel with fringe, another like a parachute, and long, skinny kites like an army of worms. Kim laughs when I tell her what I see.
"It looks to me like Lincoln City is the place to be in August. No fog, no clouds, perfect everything.
"Except that I hate mirrors. I wish I was skinny."
Photos from excursion on the Murray River
Windmill and old loading dock on Murray River.
Gum tree. I love these monoliths. So full of varied color and texture. I don't think I'll ever get tired of these.
Moonrise on the Murray late summer.
Sunset on the Murray, late summer.
Sunset with "The Liberator." Ladder to the left helps me on and off-board.
"The Liberator" at sunset on the Murray.
This is an Aussie barbecue dinner in the bush. Steve dug a long pit, filled it with wood and bark and bits and set fire. The cast iron plate is set over the pit. Once hot, the cook (which is Steve...I am the preparer) places steak, sliced onion, sliced potato, a few shrimp, and corn on the cob wrapped in aluminum foil with butter and salt over the hot plate. After dinner a tri-pod with a billy "pot" of loose-leaf tea and hot water hanging over the center is brought to a boil for a cuppa hot tea with sugar if needed.
A tree lesson on the Murray
I have roots.
Last month, Steve and I purchased a 25-foot trailer-sailer yacht dubbed "The Liberator." I haven't written about it yet, but I will, with photos.
We took the boat out on a three-day weekend on the Murray River from Echuca, and I spent most of the time pondering what I saw and heard: birds with spoonbills, myriad colorful, raucous parrots, large cod-fish splashing with glee because fishermen hadn't caught them yet, fuchsia and lemon-colored sunsets, silver moonlight over narrow, black waterways reflecting the broad white swath of the Milky Way. The wind soughing through narrow, graceful gum tree silouettes in the late evening left me speechless and peaceful and ready for sleep.
In the soft, late-summer March daylight, we put-putted with the outboard motor rather than sails, exploring the riverbank. Australia has suffered from drought for several years. The Murray River is Australia's equivalent to America's Mississippi. Not as long, not nearly as wide, and definitely not as deep. But it is long, and was a primary source of wool and wheat industry making its way from the Snowy Mountains southwest to Adelaide and her coastal area in the 1800s, when Australia was coming into its own identity as a bonifide nation.
As Steve and I traveled, we saw old timber docks and homesteads, decrepit windmills, and flood-cut riverbanks high above where we sat in low, drought-level water. There were several dead tree snags that boats need to be careful of. In fact, there is a Murray River chart book that shows explorers where dangers are. We read its routes diligently.
As a result, we saw a lot of those snags, sneaky rockbanks, and gum trees whose long, tangly roots chased the slope of a riverbank down to water like thirsty cattle's tongues.
The latter reminded me of this: "But blessed is the (person) who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. (He/she) will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes, it's roots are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." (Jeremiah 17:7-8)
For me, the most poignant sight on this trip was of one young, scraggly tree caught between two, older, robust trees holding it up on each side. The middle tree's exposed roots barely touched the river, but the two stronger, firmly planted trees upheld its middle trunk and roots and called it to live.
I thought, and pondered, that much of the later period of my life has been like that.
In the last 15 years of my existence, I have had older, healthier people around to hold me up when I felt thirsty and dried up, even when they were going through their own trials "reaching for water." They held me stable until the river rose and I was able to gain nourishment on my own. When their own roots struggled to reach past the riverbank, even then they helped me.
I am so grateful.
I hope that I am a healthier tree that someone can lean on for strength until their roots reach water. I am still learning how to gain nourishment on my own and quench my thirst when I sense drought. But I still need healthy trees around me.
I want to give back some of what I was given. Cheri, Lisa, Cindy, Karen, Bill, Katherine, Kelly, Michael H., Sharon, Alice, Marcus, Sue, Sherri, Diane, Anne I and II, Denise, and so many more...you have been oaks to me. In turn, and as a testimony of your own journeys, I want to be a robust sapling that helps others along in the manner of great trees.
I am grateful for the forest around me. My roots are growing.
Thoughts on latest blog
I had a bit of an "oh!" moment yesterday.
Steve purchased a "tinny," which is Australian for rowboat, so I can go fishing, and he can learn something other than spear-fishing. (That's another blog altogether, and a humorous one at that.) But I digress.
Anyway, Steve got this 12-foot, three bench tinny on e-bay, and we had to pick it up in Maffra, which is about 30 minutes from Sale, Victoria, where his sister and brother-in-law and two nephews live, about 4 1/2 hours from our home, one-way. We were short on time, but decided to visit family nonetheless. Being a busy Saturday, we were only able to catch up with Mike the brother-in-law and sons, Kieran and Patrick, the latter was playing a tennis tournament. Just a few minutes of chit-chat.
During those few minutes, Mike asked about our helicopter ride in Geelong a couple of months ago. He mentioned reading my blog and waiting for the rest of the story. I hadn't posted that story yet, although I did post a photo. I was surprised.
I was also surprised in the last week to find that someone I thought was a long lost friend had contacted me via my blog and said she read my stories to her youngest son. That was the only post I'd heard from her, and was pleased that she had been reading what I wrote. But I had no idea.
I have forwarded my blog address to several friends and family members, but only two or three comment fairly regularly, and so I figured that not many people visit my site, or are even interested in my thoughts.
I suppose I have been mistaken.
So, I apologize that I have not written and posted photos more frequently. Mike made a comment in passing about my blog being the way to catch up on what's going on with Steve and I.
Honestly, I never thought of that.
So...here's a heartfelt apology, a vow from me to make this venue of communication more of a priority, and a request that if you have time after you read anything, please send a note via this blog or my personal e-mail of what YOU think about what I've written. I don't have the same avenue of insight into your lives that you do with mine. If there isn't time to respond or you have nothing to say, that's okay. I understand, truly. But if you do, please do.
Thank you all so much for bearing with me, and for reading my ponderings. It really means a lot that you do, more than you know. You are my link to helping me still feel connected and loved while I try to connect in this new place of home in Australia.
Much love, me.
Steve purchased a "tinny," which is Australian for rowboat, so I can go fishing, and he can learn something other than spear-fishing. (That's another blog altogether, and a humorous one at that.) But I digress.
Anyway, Steve got this 12-foot, three bench tinny on e-bay, and we had to pick it up in Maffra, which is about 30 minutes from Sale, Victoria, where his sister and brother-in-law and two nephews live, about 4 1/2 hours from our home, one-way. We were short on time, but decided to visit family nonetheless. Being a busy Saturday, we were only able to catch up with Mike the brother-in-law and sons, Kieran and Patrick, the latter was playing a tennis tournament. Just a few minutes of chit-chat.
During those few minutes, Mike asked about our helicopter ride in Geelong a couple of months ago. He mentioned reading my blog and waiting for the rest of the story. I hadn't posted that story yet, although I did post a photo. I was surprised.
I was also surprised in the last week to find that someone I thought was a long lost friend had contacted me via my blog and said she read my stories to her youngest son. That was the only post I'd heard from her, and was pleased that she had been reading what I wrote. But I had no idea.
I have forwarded my blog address to several friends and family members, but only two or three comment fairly regularly, and so I figured that not many people visit my site, or are even interested in my thoughts.
I suppose I have been mistaken.
So, I apologize that I have not written and posted photos more frequently. Mike made a comment in passing about my blog being the way to catch up on what's going on with Steve and I.
Honestly, I never thought of that.
So...here's a heartfelt apology, a vow from me to make this venue of communication more of a priority, and a request that if you have time after you read anything, please send a note via this blog or my personal e-mail of what YOU think about what I've written. I don't have the same avenue of insight into your lives that you do with mine. If there isn't time to respond or you have nothing to say, that's okay. I understand, truly. But if you do, please do.
Thank you all so much for bearing with me, and for reading my ponderings. It really means a lot that you do, more than you know. You are my link to helping me still feel connected and loved while I try to connect in this new place of home in Australia.
Much love, me.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Introspection
I think it's a shame,
really;
that I would judge
my ponderings
on others'
interest
by comments,
whether four or one or none
from family or friends
or strangers.
Do I need to justify
my words or my heart?
Does silence mean
that no one
is interested in my
mind's meanderings?
Perhaps quiet means that
satisfaction is gained...
Nothing more to add.
I hope it's the latter.
I will write.
To do anything else would
leave me hollow.
really;
that I would judge
my ponderings
on others'
interest
by comments,
whether four or one or none
from family or friends
or strangers.
Do I need to justify
my words or my heart?
Does silence mean
that no one
is interested in my
mind's meanderings?
Perhaps quiet means that
satisfaction is gained...
Nothing more to add.
I hope it's the latter.
I will write.
To do anything else would
leave me hollow.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Cacophany of cockatoos
Writing at my desk,
myraid thoughts
gather speed
about "things."
And I type,
I ponder;
So many things to say
yet I am afraid.
I notice
somewhat reluctantly
the chorus
of birds who distract me.
My thoughts slow down.
I am writing
but the open window
lets in sounds and smells
and nature living life.
How is it
that feathered
friends call
and make me hear?
On this night
kookaburras
laugh and cackle
and other birds listen:
I stop my work of
words and thoughts
and ponder
what is it these birds know?
I hear the
racous calling of
hundreds of cockatoos roosting
In a cacophany of glee.
And I understand,
at least I think I do;
That birds are free
And so am I.
myraid thoughts
gather speed
about "things."
And I type,
I ponder;
So many things to say
yet I am afraid.
I notice
somewhat reluctantly
the chorus
of birds who distract me.
My thoughts slow down.
I am writing
but the open window
lets in sounds and smells
and nature living life.
How is it
that feathered
friends call
and make me hear?
On this night
kookaburras
laugh and cackle
and other birds listen:
I stop my work of
words and thoughts
and ponder
what is it these birds know?
I hear the
racous calling of
hundreds of cockatoos roosting
In a cacophany of glee.
And I understand,
at least I think I do;
That birds are free
And so am I.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Aftermath of Black Saturday in Australia
Australia's previous worst bush fire day was dubbed Ash Wednesday which happened on Feb. 16, 1983 over the states of South Australia and Victoria. About 75 lives were lost including 14 firefighters. Some 3,700 buildings and 2,500 family homes were destroyed. For farmers, the sheep and cattle loss was about 358,000, according to online sources.
According to various news agencies, so far, on 2009 Black Saturday, 210 human lives were lost (the full total may never be known, as the fires were so hot and fast that they served as mobile crematoriums). Several Victorian towns were obliterated: Kinglake, Marysville, Narbethong, Strathewen, and Flowerdale...no schools, homes, police and fire brigade, grocery stores, shopping centers, clinics or pharmacies survived.
In addition to the 210 dead, 500 people Victoria-wide were injured, including 100 with burns, 20 in critical condition in ICU, and more than 30 people missing. More than 2,030 homes were destroyed, state officials reported, with 3,500 buildings showing structure/fire damage, and thousands more "others" damaged. About 7,500 people are homeless, and more than one million wildlife/domestic animals injured/dead, according to state reports.
Taking off my reporter hat, I can say as a resident here that the carnage is absolutely devastating. It seems surreal.
So what happened?
I think, along with several other Australian journalists, that several factors came into play, much like the true story told in the movie The Perfect Storm starring George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg released by Warner Bros. in 2000. (Look it up so I don't have to digress here.) In fact, this very scenario was brought up several times on radio news by hosts as well as call-in guests after the recent firestorm.
Australia has been in a two-decade drought with just enough rain at the right times to keep extreme fire at bay. On Feb, 6, warnings were sent out to all citizens regarding the extreme fire danger from the Country Fire Authority (CFA) and Department of Sustainability and Environment (DSE) for Feb. 7.
Record-breaking temperatures reached into the 110s (Fahrenheit) on Feb. 7 and hotter in some areas with scorching winds from the northern desert interior at nearly 90 mph. Some of the fires were deliberately set by arsonists (a few have been caught and are awaiting trial), and some were from high winds knocking power lines loose in dry bush areas with highly explosive eucalyptus (gum) trees. Other causes were lightning, cigarette butts tossed from cars, sparks from power tools, and the heatwave.
This perfect [fire]storm was a combination of dangerously tinder-dry grass and trees, seemingly hotter than Hades temperatures, and furnace-like, nearly hurricane winds that literally took the breath out of people and made them feel like their lungs and esophagus were scorched (I was one of those.)
Most of the devastation and deaths occurred in areas of dense gum forests where the fire literally roared from treetop to treetop, down trunks and into the tinder undergrowth. Faster than fast, fire fled before wind.
Survivors tell of hearing the warnings on television or radio the day before and not being sure whether to stay and defend their homes or flee. Most homes are saved in bushfires by those who stay and defend, according to CFA officials. If one can defend their home against the main front which lasts a few minutes, then come out from a safe place and extinguish embers under the house and in the eaves and such, the home could be saved, officials say.
According to CFA officials, most Australian bush fires can be conquered and homes saved by those who stay and defend if they are ready with escape plans, sprinkler and hose systems, and a way to stay safe that is practiced regularly and approved by the CFA.
I have discovered that most people who live in bush areas are aware of all this and have plans in place that they have practiced. But amazingly, some don't. They think it's silly and overkill. Neighbors like that make me nervous.
But on Feb. 7 2009 immediately after hearing the expected media warning, residents saw gum tree smoke, then the roaring flames of fire out of control before they even had time to think, according to local media. This was not a "usual bush fire," they said. Some people dove into cattle ponds, nearby shallow creeks, or even gutters along their house, covering themselves in wet, wool blankets. Others, (most of whom died) tried to escape in vehicles. Survivors tell of driving blind through smoke and flames. Media pictures tell of those who crashed blindly into fallen trees, stalled cars, and walls of fire. All the occupants died.
Local firefighters went into the worst hit area, Kinglake, the day after. Crews were on duty to put out spot fires and for body recovery. They went to homes where several cars remained in carports or driveways and suspected there may be people inside, but the fire was so hot it obliterated everything.
Later, they heard that places they searched did have bodies...found by specialists who recognized human bones and other fragments.
A worker came upon a vehicle caught in fire and recognized what he thought was the form of a child under a blanket in the backseat, and a "squiggly line" on the front seat. It was later determined that the vehicle held the bodies of two adults and four children, not just two people. Another roadside scene was discovered of someone in a driver's seat...all that remained was a skull, spine, and hip bones.
Most of the 210 confirmed people who died perished while trying to escape, or stayed in their home caught unaware by the sudden firestorm and died from radiant heat, CFA sources said. Several people made calls from their mobile phones to tell family members they loved them, according to news reports. Some family members heard screams while loved ones perished.
The fire was so hot, fast, and intense, that people who didn't leave the day before when the original warning was posted didn't survive, reports said.
Here are pics from the day after.
Staging area for several CFA units at Kinglake, one of the most devastated by fire.
More of the staging area.
Daylight arriving near charred trees at Ground Zero.
The outline of a heavy gum tree branch reduced to ash.
Intense heat melted cars from the inside out.
A memory from someone's home.
Surviving dairy relics from a barn.
Putting out hot spots. The tin roofing in the background is all that's left of someone's home.
The hose in the foreground is intact, yet the rest of it (gray sqiggles) is melted into the background on the rest of someone's yard.
Stark color in a bleak setting.
Grey and black. Almost like a moonscape.
Trampoline survived when nothing else did on this property. The colors of CFA members and firetrucks stand out.
Although six weeks or so have passed, the aftermath continues. Australians (and me) had a recent fright with weather forecasts expected to be worse than Black Saturday.
But I believe God had mercy...the day was rainy and cool, totally opposite the forecast. And we have had cool days since then, with rainfall in areas that seem to need it most.
As a journalist, I have reported on wildfires in Washington state and some of the worst in California a few years ago, interviewing the fire chief from my neck of the woods in Battle Ground, Washington, hearing his stories and viewing his photos.
I was concerned at one point in the last five years or so that I lived in Washington about another 1909 Yacolt Burn revisiting the area I lived in near Battle Ground and Yacolt. But never have I seen devastation like this, and been so worried about saving my life in the event of a bush fire, not even thinking about grabbing photos and memorabilia.
Never was I so moved to weep nearly every day over several weeks about other's losses. Black Saturday was an epiphany in so many ways.
And to think...I was concerned about earthquakes and floods when I lived in America.
According to various news agencies, so far, on 2009 Black Saturday, 210 human lives were lost (the full total may never be known, as the fires were so hot and fast that they served as mobile crematoriums). Several Victorian towns were obliterated: Kinglake, Marysville, Narbethong, Strathewen, and Flowerdale...no schools, homes, police and fire brigade, grocery stores, shopping centers, clinics or pharmacies survived.
In addition to the 210 dead, 500 people Victoria-wide were injured, including 100 with burns, 20 in critical condition in ICU, and more than 30 people missing. More than 2,030 homes were destroyed, state officials reported, with 3,500 buildings showing structure/fire damage, and thousands more "others" damaged. About 7,500 people are homeless, and more than one million wildlife/domestic animals injured/dead, according to state reports.
Taking off my reporter hat, I can say as a resident here that the carnage is absolutely devastating. It seems surreal.
So what happened?
I think, along with several other Australian journalists, that several factors came into play, much like the true story told in the movie The Perfect Storm starring George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg released by Warner Bros. in 2000. (Look it up so I don't have to digress here.) In fact, this very scenario was brought up several times on radio news by hosts as well as call-in guests after the recent firestorm.
Australia has been in a two-decade drought with just enough rain at the right times to keep extreme fire at bay. On Feb, 6, warnings were sent out to all citizens regarding the extreme fire danger from the Country Fire Authority (CFA) and Department of Sustainability and Environment (DSE) for Feb. 7.
Record-breaking temperatures reached into the 110s (Fahrenheit) on Feb. 7 and hotter in some areas with scorching winds from the northern desert interior at nearly 90 mph. Some of the fires were deliberately set by arsonists (a few have been caught and are awaiting trial), and some were from high winds knocking power lines loose in dry bush areas with highly explosive eucalyptus (gum) trees. Other causes were lightning, cigarette butts tossed from cars, sparks from power tools, and the heatwave.
This perfect [fire]storm was a combination of dangerously tinder-dry grass and trees, seemingly hotter than Hades temperatures, and furnace-like, nearly hurricane winds that literally took the breath out of people and made them feel like their lungs and esophagus were scorched (I was one of those.)
Most of the devastation and deaths occurred in areas of dense gum forests where the fire literally roared from treetop to treetop, down trunks and into the tinder undergrowth. Faster than fast, fire fled before wind.
Survivors tell of hearing the warnings on television or radio the day before and not being sure whether to stay and defend their homes or flee. Most homes are saved in bushfires by those who stay and defend, according to CFA officials. If one can defend their home against the main front which lasts a few minutes, then come out from a safe place and extinguish embers under the house and in the eaves and such, the home could be saved, officials say.
According to CFA officials, most Australian bush fires can be conquered and homes saved by those who stay and defend if they are ready with escape plans, sprinkler and hose systems, and a way to stay safe that is practiced regularly and approved by the CFA.
I have discovered that most people who live in bush areas are aware of all this and have plans in place that they have practiced. But amazingly, some don't. They think it's silly and overkill. Neighbors like that make me nervous.
But on Feb. 7 2009 immediately after hearing the expected media warning, residents saw gum tree smoke, then the roaring flames of fire out of control before they even had time to think, according to local media. This was not a "usual bush fire," they said. Some people dove into cattle ponds, nearby shallow creeks, or even gutters along their house, covering themselves in wet, wool blankets. Others, (most of whom died) tried to escape in vehicles. Survivors tell of driving blind through smoke and flames. Media pictures tell of those who crashed blindly into fallen trees, stalled cars, and walls of fire. All the occupants died.
Local firefighters went into the worst hit area, Kinglake, the day after. Crews were on duty to put out spot fires and for body recovery. They went to homes where several cars remained in carports or driveways and suspected there may be people inside, but the fire was so hot it obliterated everything.
Later, they heard that places they searched did have bodies...found by specialists who recognized human bones and other fragments.
A worker came upon a vehicle caught in fire and recognized what he thought was the form of a child under a blanket in the backseat, and a "squiggly line" on the front seat. It was later determined that the vehicle held the bodies of two adults and four children, not just two people. Another roadside scene was discovered of someone in a driver's seat...all that remained was a skull, spine, and hip bones.
Most of the 210 confirmed people who died perished while trying to escape, or stayed in their home caught unaware by the sudden firestorm and died from radiant heat, CFA sources said. Several people made calls from their mobile phones to tell family members they loved them, according to news reports. Some family members heard screams while loved ones perished.
The fire was so hot, fast, and intense, that people who didn't leave the day before when the original warning was posted didn't survive, reports said.
Here are pics from the day after.
Staging area for several CFA units at Kinglake, one of the most devastated by fire.
More of the staging area.
Daylight arriving near charred trees at Ground Zero.
The outline of a heavy gum tree branch reduced to ash.
Intense heat melted cars from the inside out.
A memory from someone's home.
Surviving dairy relics from a barn.
Putting out hot spots. The tin roofing in the background is all that's left of someone's home.
The hose in the foreground is intact, yet the rest of it (gray sqiggles) is melted into the background on the rest of someone's yard.
Stark color in a bleak setting.
Grey and black. Almost like a moonscape.
Trampoline survived when nothing else did on this property. The colors of CFA members and firetrucks stand out.
Although six weeks or so have passed, the aftermath continues. Australians (and me) had a recent fright with weather forecasts expected to be worse than Black Saturday.
But I believe God had mercy...the day was rainy and cool, totally opposite the forecast. And we have had cool days since then, with rainfall in areas that seem to need it most.
As a journalist, I have reported on wildfires in Washington state and some of the worst in California a few years ago, interviewing the fire chief from my neck of the woods in Battle Ground, Washington, hearing his stories and viewing his photos.
I was concerned at one point in the last five years or so that I lived in Washington about another 1909 Yacolt Burn revisiting the area I lived in near Battle Ground and Yacolt. But never have I seen devastation like this, and been so worried about saving my life in the event of a bush fire, not even thinking about grabbing photos and memorabilia.
Never was I so moved to weep nearly every day over several weeks about other's losses. Black Saturday was an epiphany in so many ways.
And to think...I was concerned about earthquakes and floods when I lived in America.
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