Cats and Dogs

Felt sure we’d lose power this afternoon. Right on cue, in came the rain from the west as predicted by the weather bureau, a welcome thirst quencher for the dry ground, but a distant rumble of thunder a few hours later heralded more to come. Hurriedly packed up my desk as the sky turned from pale grey to charcoal, hightailed it home amidst the thunder and lightning, not game to put up the brolly in case it became a magnet for the next flash of lightning, just making it to the front door as the heavens opened and really dumped it.

FLASH, cat and dog 1, cat and dog 2, cat and dog 3, cat and dog 4 BOOM……make a cuppa in case the power goes off……FLASH, cat and dog 1, cat and dog 2, cat and dog 3, cat BOOM, ooh, it’s heading this way.

One thing I missed after moving from Queensland was the storms. Though they could be quite scary and sometimes lethal, a good tropical summer storm had a way of heightening your senses and clearing the air. Tasmania’s storms are humble by comparison, so when they do come I feel a surge of expectancy. Not to the extent where I want to subject myself to the elements as do innately stupid TV reporters displaying their ill-timed bravado as they hang on for grim death in the path of a cyclone, simply to get the best footage for the 6 o’clock news.

We have no control over what will unfold, and with Nature seemingly out of control all we can do is look on with fascination, awe and wonder, and sometimes even fear. I’m happy to watch from the safety of home, thankful the garden has received bucket loads of life giving minerals that tap water simply doesn’t provide. There’s the calm before the storm, then there’s the calm after the storm. The sun is out again, there’s barely a breath of wind, and I’m sure the grass is already looking greener.

Running home as thunder booms

sudden storm
for summer’s end

Up a Gum Tree

Kookaburra sits

not up in the old gum tree
but on the clothes line

Gone Fishin'

One two three four five

once I caught a fish alive
‘twas very tasty

Pursuit of Happiness

Utterly futile

pursuing happiness as

an end in itself

Always elusive

it will land unawares
when least expected

Symphony Under the Stars

After a day and a half of steady soaking rain the State desperately needed, the clouds parted and out came the sun at exactly the right moment. With the prospect of my annual dose of ‘culture’ being in jeopardy, the weather map website had been constantly monitored to ensure my evening at the TSO’s Symphony under the Stars was going to proceed as planned.

With a bright sun shining through City Park’s stately elms, the crowd swelled as blankets, picnic chairs, tables and baskets took up every available spot of green grass. While the crowd snacked on every variety of pre-packed dinner or cheese or cracker and dip, quaffed down with a glass of red or white or just plain water, the orchestra did what they do best, delighting us all with their virtuosity under the capable direction of conductor Elena Schwarz. Solo artists Emma McGrath on violin, and Andrew Seymour on clarinet, kept us spellbound, not only with their skill, but with the emotional impact of their playing.

As the sun set and the air cooled, a light breeze stirred the leaves overhead. Stars began to appear, then the crowd quietened and settled after the interval as the stage took on a more dramatic appearance. I have to admit I’d never even heard of some of the composers featured, but I know a good night out when I see one, or have one. And I indeed did have one.

Along with several thousand people who'd obviously had a great night too, enjoying the frivolity of the traditional can-can which gets the crowd on its feet is always a fitting finale to the evening, proving you don’t have to be a high-brow classical music aficionado to appreciate good music.

Violin weaves

its magic spell
tugs at my heart strings

A Pretty Pair

Plant a pair of pear trees

see the fruit

their branches bear

Parched Paddocks

Wind ruffled

tall dry grass

ripples across the paddock

Playing Hookey

There’s something rather nice about taking time out of the normal routine and seeing some different scenery, even if it is work related. We left at 9, arrived home at 5 after travelling up to Tassie’s north west coast and back, so we felt justified in our full day’s work, even if we did stop off and have a yummy morning tea and lunch and a quick trek down to Penguin beach. The National Geographic’s 50 best photos were being exhibited at the Burnie Art Gallery, which was well worth the visit, and a reminder of some of my favourite cover photos from past issues. To see the videos documenting the lengths some photographers went to, to capture those moments, was nothing short of amazing, in some cases risking their lives for the craft they love.

 

Cool on-shore breeze

no sparkling ocean

grey skies, grey waves

Garden Secrets

Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden journeys through not only the redemption of a walled garden hidden away under lock and key for many years, but the parallel experience of how that process brings about a new beginning for all those involved in its rebirth. Abandoned to let nature reclaim what was once a treasured place, the painful memories attached to it have tainted its beauty and purpose.

Visiting several Open Gardens in Ross recently, it was interesting to hear the stories behind the design and creation of gardens which in some instances grew out of barren house blocks, whereas others were given a new lease of life after years of neglect, while others sought to use the landscape in which they were found and work around and with it.

The children in Burnett’s novel see beyond the overgrown tangle to not only what it was, but to what it might become. With minimal resources they set about creating order out of chaos, uncovering hidden delights, allowing the garden to breathe and come back to life.

I think the gardeners in Ross saw themselves in much the same way, as custodians of their little patches of earth, stewards of the land, helping their gardens to become not only beautiful, but productive as well. The process is therapeutic, connecting with the soil, nurturing baby seedlings into adult plants, witnessing the cycle of seasons as colours change, periods of dormancy prevail, and as produce ripens, is harvested, shared among friends and eaten with great relish.

There’s nothing secret about my garden, no stone walls, no ornate gate; it’s just a humble patch, but one that gives back to me when I invest in nurturing it.

Secret garden
breathes life into

more than the plants