THE LITERARY GROUP

Looking, not too carefully, at my reflection in the mirror this morning, I defiantly decided to wear a pair of sparkly earrings to go with my sparkly top. With grim determination I placed the small black flower in my hair and applied a little eye make-up.



How dare those women judge me!! What did they know about me that entitled them to form those all too obvious opinions? They knew nothing. All my life, it seems, I have encountered these hostile attitudes. The weird and totally frustrating thing is the attitude has surrounded me through all the different phases of my life – innocent, not so innocent, young mother, church member, scripture teacher, law clerk, single mum, dedicated mother, sex goddess, earth mother, high-flying glass ceiling bumper, sophisticate, hippy, humble house cleaner, carer, poor, well off, pretty, slim, fat, old, pathetic, proud – it just doesn’t matter what stage of life or what particular incarnation I am involved in, other women just don’t like me!


Could this be an endowment from Mother who sees slings and arrows in everything around her? Dear God, I hope not! I think I am conscious enough of her particular poison not to drink from that same cup.


Ironically I enjoy the company of other women and am a firm believer in the support of sisterhood. Some of my warmest memories swim around the love and support of ‘sisters’. Even those women however, ultimately judged me and found me wanting. Now that really is sad. The loss of that closeness presses in and affects me profoundly.


I used to be judgemental. When I was a young thing and life had not really begun with me, I would stand in judgement of those around me. Favourite thoughts started with things like “I would never”, “How could she”, “No matter what, I would never”, and so on and so forth. I think you get the picture. Life however had plans for me, and it soon knocked those thoughts out of my young head. As I progressively found myself doing pretty much all those things and more, I realised I was in no position to judge anyone. I read a wonderful book once where the author stated that when we judge others we do not define them, but rather ourselves as people who needed to judge. Wow! That was as they say, a light-bulb moment. I had by then ceased my judgemental ways, but had I had any inclination to continue on, that sure would have stopped me in my tracks!


All pretty impressive isn’t it? Weeellll, I suppose on some level, I am still out there judging away. Now I just don’t admit it, not even to myself. The very fact that those women yesterday managed to get under my skin proves that I am still in some way judging. The BIG REALISATION from the day tho’, is that it still matters to me what others think. How can that still be? Have I not payed any attention along the way and have I still not learnt even this most basic of lessons? It seems not! I guess when you really get down to it, it is not so much what they think of me that matters, it is more that THEY DON’T SEE ME!


Here I am 62 years old, and I have lived. I have lessons learnt, experiences to share, care to give, companionship to share, laughter to gift and tears to shed and yet nobody seems to see any of this. What do they see? In this case I suspect they saw a fat old woman, over-dressed by their lofty standards, with a superior attitude and quick mouth. Oh yes, I just cannot seem to resist throwing in my little gems of humour on these sort of occasions. Once upon a time they would have been good ice breakers, but now they seem to be spurned as inappropriate or embarrassing. I know they are not.


Of course, I am an outsider. I know that in country towns, they hate the tourist (ironically) and despise the townie. I would have thought tho’ that the clanship of gender, the love of literature and art would have nullified the trivialities of origin. It seems not. The stupid thing here of course, is that I am really neither of those things. I love this part of the world and would love to make it my home. I thought that the predominance of alternative thinkers, ‘arty-farty ‘ types etc would have meant that someone with an independent train of mind would have fitted right in. It would seem I was wrong in that thought. I have never really been ‘a townie’, even when I worked in Perth for all those years, commuting daily from the outer suburbs. Essentially I am a hill-billy having grown up in the hills. The Swan valley and Norseman were my holiday destinations as a child and from those areas I have gained an appreciation of country and farm life.


The farm girls yesterday were lovely, exuding that particular type of boisterousness that young country women do – even tho’ they (understandably) clove to their own buddies to the exclusion of others. In days gone by, I’m sure I have done exactly the same thing. One could see tho’ looking at their faces they were shining lights and I guess, probably not judgemental at all. They, one in particular, had a simplicity of nature that was endearing. One lass, who proclaimed herself a ‘visual artist’ appealed to me enormously as a person of value (good grief where did that come from – too many Jane Austin!?) – there was a light shining from her that illuminated the room. I think her name was Anne or Annie and I would guess that one could put one’s life in Annie’s care and be well rewarded. I am not one who can read auras, and am not even convinced of the veracity of those who claim they can do so, but there was an aura surrounding Annie – it bespoke of love, purity, humility and true charity. I wonder if she knows this about herself. Other women there seemed to be of similar ilk, but of course, this is all guess work.


There were a couple of other relatively young women, young mothers in fact, who were trying to reclaim their individual status as women, warriors and workers. I wish them luck. I really do.


Chatting to one of these young women, I voiced (all unasked) my opinion that those years when the children are still at the toddler stage, the woman at home and the fella working his butt off are very difficult for relationships. I do believe a couple who can withstand this period, will have fought and won one of the biggest battles couples are confronted with. If this young woman can find the time to be herself in the maelstrom of activity and giving, she just might avoid some of the feelings of inadequacy that seem to haunt so many of us in the years pursuant to childbirth. My own experience was that I put off being myself until retirement – not a fair go I think. This young woman reminded me strongly of a younger me. She was still very much the innocent, even tho’ I suspect her years may have almost numbered 40. She glowed with the aftermath of childbirth and the good intentions still harboured at that stage of life. I could see, sadly, the beginnings too, of the ‘unconvinced woman’ that so many of us become. Unconvinced that she deserved time for herself, unconvinced that she had anything worth giving, unconvinced time to write was worthwhile, unconvinced of her own value. She was a beautiful person, still unsullied by life’s sour experiences, yet unconvinced she should have a voice. I pray that she overcomes her feelings of unworthiness and finds her full potential as a person and a woman. I felt there was beauty of spirit encased in that pretty exterior. I hope she lets it shine and that life does not extinguish that flame.


Another young woman, a journalist, was also just starting back into the workforce having birthed her children. She had a lively energy and having heard a small piece she read aloud to us yesterday, I suspect a considerable talent. Her words were lyrical and perhaps journalism would sell her short. An unpublished novelest amongst us maybe! I would be disappointed to hear in years to come that she had not farmed her abilities and written the beauty that is inherently hers.


There was one other woman there, who instinctively I felt I could have found a bond with, probably largely because she was the closest in age to me. She sounded English and seemed to be endowed with that wonderful self effacing sense of humour some English women are graced with. I would have liked to chat with her but somehow that opportunity didn’t evolve. I think perhaps because she like most others, had friends there.


Katherine was interesting! Doug and I had seen her around town the previous couple of days, and had tagged her “that colourful woman” – an apt description. Katherine I suspect marches very much to the beat of her own drum. Her dress is eccentric and she truly has her own style and I would guess cares little of others’ opinions. I would like to think in fact that she would scorn others thoughts on her dress, style and life choices. She has a sharp mind and seemingly a very open thought process. How very refreshing. I guess she pretty much epitomises the sort of person I had imagined would live here. We would probably never be best mates, but I think we would have some very interesting discussions and would accept each other for the individuals we are.


Another woman, perhaps also somewhat of a kindred spirit, sat quietly at the back of the room! We had a couple of quiet words and I think we share a similar dilemma - that of the ethical question of writing family histories, memoirs, etc. We both, it seems have stories that really need to be told, and yet we risk hurting others in the telling. We both need to weigh up the value of our potential work against possible damage we may deal others as a result. I guess the question is whether or not the story is more of value to others, or more a cathartic experience for us, spewing forth all the accumulated pain of years gone by. Selfish or altruistic – that seems to be the crux!!


Rachel was lovely and although I was at a bit of a disadvantage probably being the only person in the room who had not previously read her book, I found her to be erudite and compassionate. I can see that as a teacher she would excel. She had a knack of drawing people out, encouraging their thoughts and rewarding them for participating. Not once did I feel that she displayed any impatience with group members, even tho’ I thought she may have been tested on a couple of occasions. Hers is a rare ability. I have opened her book this morning and whilst I have only read a couple of pages, the book already has me in its grip. I am not surprised, having met her yesterday, to discover that her son is an autistic person. That degree of patience and acceptance was probably born of the experience of mothering her son. Of course, the kernel must have been there to start with. How fortunate some of us are, that life grants us the opportunity to grow and develop those kernels with our life experiences! There is a theory that God will not send us any undertaking we are not capable of dealing with. I rather think that God gifts us with adversity. The knocks and blows that we encounter along the way mould and transform us into the people we become. It is the shallow dish that collects no rain!


The wonder of the day was Betty! Betty was 85 and to all intents and purposes has lived an extraordinary life. She electrified us with her earliest memory and fascinated us with tales of her life in New Guinea as a nurse and missionary. When we thought we had already heard the most incredible stories from her, she then thrilled us with the information that she had also piloted aeroplanes. Somewhere in amongst all these things she had birthed two children who have grown up to be a Dr and a barrister. What an amazing woman. I think that all of us who thought we had a story to tell, felt very humbled by Betty’s stories. Now there is a woman who really does have a story to tell. I hope that she gets all that wonderful information down on paper before her life here is over. What inspiring stories she has to tell and how much that inspiration is needed today.


So, who then was it that nettled me and drove me to the keyboard this morning? I guess it really only leaves ‘the alternatives’. There have been many terms couched to describe this particular type of person. Hippy, Orange, Feral, etc, etc, I think you probably get the picture. I am trying hard not to be judgemental here, but simply stating the status quo as I saw it.


We had the company of a few of these women. I would have thought I would have found some kind of bond with these women, as I have a fairly compromising thought process and do not fit into any conventional ‘box’ so to speak. Instead, I was surprised to find that I felt judged by them! It has surprised me to find that these people, who consider themselves to be outside of the norm, individuals and visionaries, are more judgemental than the average housewife. Yes, I know that is a damming statement, both to me and these alternative women.


Firstly, I found that they challenged my desire not to judge. One of the ladies obviously finds that soap of any kind is a major sin and exercised her right not to use soap or deodorant. I respect that right, but find it a little selfish that she would expose the rest of us to the dubious benefit of her very obvious body odour. It may not matter to those she lives with, but in close quarters, the rest of us may have a small problem. I must explain here that despite the odour the lady in question looked very clean. Unfortunately, I am particularly subject to unpleasant odours and found that experience a little less than wonderful. I am pleased I was not sitting next to her.


These women chose not to wear make-up, colour their hair or improve their appearance using artificial devices. I really respect their decision and even understand the rationale behind their choices. On a purely logical basis, I agree with their decisions. From an ecological point of view, I think they are right and they are as they say, ‘talking the talk and walking the walk’. I applaud their courage and perspicacity. What I find totally confounding and most disappointing tho’ was their very apparent judgement of others, myself in particular.


I felt wave upon wave of disapproval emanating from some of these women. I suppose I am almost the devil incarnate from their perspective. I am grossly overweight – hence my disregard of millions of starving children, I wear make-up – neglecting the planet, I colour my hair – disempowering my crone status and diminishing my womanhood no doubt. My clothes were all synthetic and I wore jewellery. How very, very sad!


Sadder still is the fact that they have become what they most despise. Judgemental and condemning of those who are not like them! Surely when they all left home, all those years ago, that was one of the false values they were trying to escape. How interesting that they all unwittingly have imitated their doubtless very judgemental mothers. Dare I use the word – intolerant! It would seem that these individual spirited women are no less subject to the old mother daughter syndrome than the rest of us.


Of course, I am over-stating the situation somewhat. Not all these women frowned at me, and I’m sure not all of them judged me. It just felt that way. When I bought my ticket for the day, I didn’t give any thought to the possibility of an all female adventure, but once I realised that was the case, I think my spirits flew a little at the promise of a day bathed with the warmth of the female psyche – it fell a little short of that!

I guess part of my disappointment was too, that the vast majority of women there had a predisposition to the use of what might be loosely termed psycho-babble words. A sort of false -feeling spiritualism involving much discussion about symbolism and such! I find it really difficult to put this one into sensible words and find myself floundering along in a puddle of self-depreciation as I seek meaning to my disconsolate mood. I consider myself to be a spiritual person, open minded and perhaps just a little bit alternative – but something about yesterday left me wanting. Oh wait, Oh no, I think, I guess, Oh Bugger, I think perhaps it was what Doug calls D.O.B.!


That my dears, means that my age was my problem – not the other women. My age left me feeling on the outer. The vast majority of the women there were considerably younger than me, and Betty bless her soul, has sufficient years not to even notice the attitude of others. How wonderful would that be?


I think perhaps that I just missed having someone of my own there who I could identify with and with whom I could commiserate about life’s inequities and challenges. I missed the humour that is intrinsic to my generation and that certain feeling of belonging. In essence I think that all the women there were amazing, beautiful and spiritual beings. The fault lay within and not without.


Well, how interesting to find that I still have a lot to learn and a long way to go on this journey called life – the journey that juxtaposes with my attempt to achieve true womanhood.


Steph.

TIS THE SEASON

Memories of Wild Flower Trip

At our doorstep

Can you believe we are now in late November 2011??!! Just where did the last 12 months go? I hope and trust that the last 12 months have been kind to you and yours and sincerely wish you a wonderful, happy, healthy and prosperous 2012.

Last time we spoke, we had just accepted an offer to stay at a pretty 50 acre property around 50-60ks north of Perth in a picturesque area called Bullsbrook. My darling DD keeps looking for the bull folks! He feels sure that there is some old hoary beast lurking alongside the local brook and hence the name!
I mentioned too that my daughter in law was having a few health issues. Well, as these things go, the health issues escalated just as we moved considerably further away from their home. We received an emergency call the day after we moved, advising us that Nom had once again been taken to hospital. As my son Brett had flown out to Sydney the day before on business there was quite a problem. Brett’s long time mate Brook, who should from here on be known as BTB (Brook the Brave) BTB had responded to Nom’s emergency call during the early hours of the morning and had hastened to their home to stay with Daniel the furiously fast four year old and Jack the jaunty 10 month old. BTB, bless his bachelor socks had stayed the night and then somehow, without any real idea of what he was doing, fed and dressed both the boys, ironed his shirt (with baby under arm) and managed to deposit them at day-care before getting himself off to work.
His plaintive call reached us mid morning. The brave and wonderful man was, he said, willing to sally forth back into the fray that evening and do it all again, but he was not quite sure that he would be able to cope very well. What an amazingly good mate he is. We had little choice but to give a backward glance at our new country abode and make haste for the ‘burbs’ again.
One of the problems associated with looking after the boys, is the matter of appropriate car-seats. Of course, these days one cannot just grab the kids and throw them into the back seat as we would once have done. As those of our generation well know, back in the dark ages, we would have just placed the 4yo in the back of the car and I would have nursed the baby. Not today of course. Now we are not very experienced in all this new fangled stuff and as the Cruiser (Zed) is a very large vehicle, we were unsure about how to transfer the car seats from Nom’s toy car into our big bus. This meant that DD had to drive the little silver toy that Nom drives. The toy is a manual, and yours truly, whilst holding a licence to drive a manual, has not driven one since acquiring her licence (you know, back then when Noah was a boy!!) As you all know we are fairly large people! My proportions, whilst not tall are very wide and DD is tall and nowhere near as sylph-like as he once was. DD also sports a size 13 foot and has habitually driven automatics for the past ............years. So........... after managing to squeeze ourselves into the toy (remember we are used to Zed where one almost needs a ladder to gain access) we proceeded to drag our bottoms along the road – at least that is how it felt – whilst bunny-hopping from spot to spot. DD was having terrible trouble with the clutch and the brake as his large foot seemed unable to move from one to the other smoothly and the ability to manipulate each pedal independently of the other was causing quite some stress. At the same time, my right thigh my dears, was attracting more attention than it had seen since we re-connected some 9 years ago! This was as a result of the gear stick being situated somewhere around my mid thigh. We must have made quite a spectacle, with DD hunched over the steering wheel (where else was he going to hunch?) and me squished up against the passenger door.

Basking in the late sunlght

Anyway to cut a long story short we had a couple of days and nights where we proceeded across to pick the boys up from day-care, stayed the night and then drove back to our ‘country estate’ in an exhausted state the following morning. Oh, just one more humorous tale to relate here. Young Daniel, the fast and furious four year old, has a habit of stealing into the main bedroom in the early hours of the morning. The process went a little like this, as one was sleeping lightly, with one ear posted for any sounds on the monitor in the baby’s room, one would hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet through the room, followed by the soft thud of the overnight ‘pull-ups’ hitting the floor in the en-suite. Then I would hear the musical tinkling of a wee in the loo followed by the soft foot-falls re-entering the bedroom. There the fiendish intelligence of the four year old cut in as Daniel, rather than risk refusal by trying to climb into bed next to us, would quietly insert himself into the bed from the other end, tucking in the process, his small but cold and bony feet into my doubtless warm and soft bottom. Now there followed about 3 hours (well at least 30 minutes) of twitching and squirming until he finally found his way back to the land of nod.
Now I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here, on the first night, there was only one person conscious of this activity, as all through the process we were accompanied by the loud and vigorous snores emanating from DD’s side of the bed. In the morning, DD awoke reasonably refreshed only to find a fairly fractious and irritable old woman in the kitchen. The second night however, my beautiful man wasn’t sleeping quite so soundly and after Daniel had once again inserted his cold little bod into the other end of the bed, DD would periodically sit bolt upright in bed and peer in an alarmed manner at the foot of the bed. I would then murmur something reassuring about it only being Daniel and DD would subside back down under the covers and the snores would then increase in volume as he sought to find a deeper sleep. After this entertaining (not) behaviour had repeated itself a few times, Daniel started to whine also. When I somewhat caustically asked him what the matter was, he informed me in a very peeved and hurt tone that he “just wanted him (DD) to go to sleep!” Eventually somewhere around 4.30 DD informed me that he felt he would have to go and sleep on the couch. Now girls, I think that this was my cue to do something heroic like demur gently that no, indeed it would be me to go to the couch, or that I would risk waking the entire household by moving Daniel unwillingly back to his own room, but my dears, by that time, having been up to Jack a couple of times, having settled both DD and Daniel back to sleep a couple of times, I was in no mood for self-sacrifice. To what must have DD’s considerable disappointment I said with great feeling “Well one of you certainly has to go!” At that my DD wandered sadly out to the very commodious and quite comfortable couch. Poor boy!
Anyway, we all lived through the experience and Nom has since then been fine. Hopefully we are finally at the end of the whole birth and subsequent ill health episode. Jack will turn one on the 30th November and doubtless, Brett and Nom will look back at this past year in some wonder in the future, wondering indeed how they all survived.
During all of this, Mother was having major problems with her eyes and we were also involved in taking her to a series of appointments with GPs, opticians and eye specialists, none of whom could find any evidence of any new problems, or indeed any further deterioration of mum’s eyesight. The trouble had started on the very day that I had taken her home after our wild-flower tour. She said it was just as if someone had dropped a shade over her eyes. This situation seems not to have changed a great deal since then I’m sad to say. Tomorrow we take her to the Blind society to have yet another test done and to determine what if any aids will make her life a little easier. This is all very hard to digest as she has just been declared fit to drive for yet another 12 months.
We, mum and I that is, had yet another falling out, this time as a result of her lack of trust in me. I won’t go into gory details, suffice to say when she does these sorts of things, it feels very much like a blow to the solar plexus (that’s a kick in the guts for anyone who needs a translation) and it takes some time to recover from the subsequent hurt. She is indeed a hard person to love from time to time, and yet, God help me, I do love her. Oh well, it has never been particularly easy, why should it change now at this late stage?
Well, all of this and I still haven’t told you about Bullsbrook! As I said earlier it is around 50ks north of Perth situated alongside the Gt Northern Highway. The property belongs to the daughter of a friend. We had visited our mates while they were looking after the place for their daughter and her husband. There is a long and convoluted story attached to the place, but in simple terms, our friend’s daughter and her husband purchased the property around 1 year ago with the intention of moving both their home and their business here. Due to some issues with disclosure (or more accurately lack of disclosure) they were unable to move the business here. The property went straight back on the market and hopefully in the not too distant future, some resolution to some sticky legal matters will be resolved for the owners.
The owners are a delightful young couple with 4 kids, their own thriving business and a super busy lifestyle. The property consists of 50 acres of undulating pasture and native bush. The bush is a glorious mish- mash of majestic trees, gravel, sand and banks of banksia and native Christmas Trees. Due to some regulatory matters the property is deemed almost to be a nature reserve and as such is a haven for the wild creatures which abound in this area.
There are two old houses on the property and for the first 6 weeks or so that we were here we had the whole place gloriously to ourselves. There are now two of the couple’s employees installed in the other house, but we rarely see them.
We have declined the chance to move our stuff (still in storage) into the house and have opted instead to stay in the van. I have however made myself a studio inside the house and we use the veranda each afternoon to watch the shadows lengthen over the land and see the roos come out of hiding to forage.
There is a lovely swimming pool which we are making good use of and I have to say we are loving being here. The peace and quiet are addictive. For excitement, we are quite close to the RAAF base and so are entertained quite frequently with the comings and goings of the aeroplanes and helicopters from the base.

Splendid Fellow

We are spoilt for bird life. We have all the usual suspects in maggies, mudlarks, butcher birds, ringnecks, galahs, black cockatoos and of course a couple of crows. In addition to all of these we also have splendid wrens and amazingly a couple of red cap parrots. Of course we have taken to putting feed out for the birds on a daily basis (as the practice was before we arrived) and now also put out feed for the roos. It is an absolute delight to sit on the veranda in the late afternoon and watch the antics of the wildlife.
We have been fortunate enough to see this place at it’s very best as we arrived at the peak of spring. The grasses were verdantly green and the wild-flowers were prolific. Now we have fields of gold decorated with the olive green of grass trees and the vivid orange of the Christmas trees. We are sooooooo spoilt!

A couple of the locals

The place is a magnet for anyone who cherishes the peace and quiet of the Australian bush and we have found that visitors fall in love with the tranquillity. We have had a few visitors and love having people come to share our world with us. Because of all the space, and an empty house there is plenty of room for friends and family to visit, even to bring a van and set up camp for a couple of days. We are on the power grid but have no scheme water. A bore supplies water for the garden and pool and a large rain tank provides water for the house.
We have decided that if we cannot be on the road then this is a pretty good substitute. Of course, as the place is on the market, we don’t really know just how long we will be able to stay here. With all of this in mind, we have made the somewhat difficult decision to travel to Tasmania early next year. The intention, was until a week or so ago, to leave mid January and return mid- year. We were (and still are) very happy and excited at the prospect.
Fate, as it will do, has stepped in however. DD went off to his GP a week ago to have his 6 monthly check up and to get his medication for the next 6 months. While there he mentioned that he had been very tired of late and his very careful Dr decided to have a good look at him. Thank God that he did! It turned out that his heart beat was very irregular. This meant a fast appointment to see a cardiologist. Long story short – atrial fibrillation was the diagnosis. DD is now on medication to regulate his heart beat and also on blood thinning medication. Blood tests every 4-5 days will determine how much of the thinners he needs in preparation for an ultrasound to ensure that there are no blood clots formed in the heart. Once everything is stabilised then they will ‘shock’ the heart in an attempt to get it back into the correct rhythm. This, we are told is usually successful. If the shock treatment fails then we think it will be a matter of medication ad finitum.
Since starting the first medication to regulate his heart beat, DD has been sleeping much better, his snoring has decreased in volume and his sleep apnoea seems to have improved considerably. It is interesting and something to be aware of – if anyone you know has sleep apnoea, it is recommended that they have their heart beat checked! It seems there may be a correlation between the two problems.
All of this of course, sent me into a spin and I dare say frightened the you know what out of our lad. Doug being Doug tho’, he has handled the whole thing with great aplomb and considerable calm (unlike me) and has an unassailably positive outlook. That is something we do share. We are both confident that this episode with turn out well and a better quality of health for Doug will be the outcome.
This has all coincided with a major health campaign we had already embarked on. We are on a diet and we are as a result of the necessity of moving around a great deal more on this property already feeling fitter and healthier. The pool is a major plus and every afternoon when it is warm enough (and sometimes when it is not!) we are out there enjoying and exercising (in a gentle and restrained way of course).

From the veranda as the long shadows fall

Onwards and upwards is our war cry, albeit, perhaps not to Tassie quite so soon. DD doesn’t go back to the cardiologist for a check up until mid Jan and from there they will plan the shock treatment. We are not sure how much longer we will have to wait after that, but have hopes that we will get away early February. We have high hopes of still going to Tassie, but being the positive types that we are, if that is vetoed, then we will simply find another closer spot to visit. It is tough, because Mum does need us so much more now, but we really do have to look to ourselves and our own needs. This latest health scare is a huge wake up call – not that we really needed one, we were already aware of the risks we are taking in not doing what we wish to do, but at the end of the day, it has to be somewhat of a juggling act.
In the midst of all various dramas, we have celebrated being together for nine whole years! It seems impossible, but there you are. I have also managed to do some reasonable (and some unreasonable) paintings and we have managed to have both fun and some peace and quiet.


We join to wish you all a harmonious and joyous Christmas and New Year.


Doug & Steph

Travelling with Mother

Amazing Florals

A soft bed for an old soldier



Incredible Contrasts




Travelling with Mother



While DD and I were travelling through our wonderful wild-flower country I was so incredibly impressed with the absolutely jaw dropping beauty I decided I would like to take mum on a brief road trip. Mum has pretty well lived out her life in a small geographic area which would probably cover about 10ks. She really is a person who needs the reassurance of being in her own space, but she also loves beauty and is responsible for instilling a love of nature in me.


Having said that, she recently expressed the belief that the hospital must have given her the wrong baby as my love of the open road is completely foreign to her. DD and I have tried to share some of our experiences with her by taking her on short road trips to Augusta, Walpole and Esperance. She enjoyed all these little sorties albeit also being glad to return home.


Anyway.....I came up with this marvellous idea while we were driving between Mullewa and Morowa and couldn’t wait to call her and give her the good news. I thought it would be lovely opportunity to have some quality Mother Daughter time together. Mother had often expressed disappointment at never having seen Kalbarri so I thought I would do a round trip incorporating Kalbarri.


What is it they say about good intentions? When I called mother to share this wonderful idea with her, before I could mention the subject she gave me a long and disturbing tale of how bad her eyes had been and that she was trying to see her Dr as they were so much worse than usual. She felt that the problem was different to the usual Macular Degeneration (MD) and thought that perhaps she had conjunctivitis or similar. Well, dramas! I explained my plan to her and she was both dismayed and thrilled at the prospect. There was an element of urgency to my plan as from what I could glean the wild-flower carpets would not be around for much longer and I really did want her to see them when they were at their best. After a bit of deliberation we decided that if she could not get in to see her Dr then she should get a cab to the local emergency department at Swan District Hospital. We decided that if she had the go ahead from the Dr we would leave on the first Thursday after our return home. Doing anything like this with Mother is difficult due to the fact that she ALWAYS has her hair done on Wednesday morning and everything has to be arranged around this absolute.


I was so disappointed when I thought that we might not be able to go through with the trip – I had all sorts of sentimental thoughts of a wonderful mother daughter bonding experience. Isn’t it amazing how your memory banks fail to function effectively sometimes?

Fields of Canola and Wheat

Well, Mother managed to get in to see a Dr and was given some antibiotic drops just in case there was an infection. The Dr could see nothing obvious wrong with her eyes. There was, according to mother some marginal improvement in her eyes and so we started to make arrangements for our journey. I had to laugh, when I first mentioned my plan to mum, she wanted to know where DD was going to stay – she had imagined that she and I would be taking the caravan! Now that really would be something! DD of course would be staying in the van. He really is Douglas Darling, as he fully supported my endeavours even though he realised he was putting himself in the slot for going up to Mum’s house twice daily to feed The Wombat. Mum’s dog Sparky, a very rotund Staffy needed not only to be fed twice daily, but of course also needed walking and a bit of company. People who are not into pets and dogs will have difficulty understanding that Sparky is mum’s only child at the moment and her mainstay, company and bed-warmer. I fully understand her concern for him.


The plan was to stay in motels and or apartments in Perenjori, Northampton and Kalbarri, leaving on the Thursday morning early and returning on Monday. A good plan!


Boy, the first thing I have to say is that during the next four days I came to understand and appreciate all the things that DD does for me (and for mum) as I became the surrogate ‘bloke’ and had to do all the carrying and toting for the two of us. Fortunately I had the foresight to veto mum’s big old suitcase and purchased a couple of cheap and cheerful carry bags for both of us. You would have laughed had you seen our matching pastel pink bags.

The famous wreath flower

Colour!

A couple of well disguised trouble-makers

Do you have any idea of just how much stuff you need to carry with you for such an enterprise. As we planned to eat out for just one meal a day I needed to carry sufficient tucker for breakfast and lunch. Silly girl! Of course as it turned out, we mostly supplied our own breakfast but not much else. Now those of you who are familiar with my ample figure would assume that I was the culprit with the over -supply of food. Especially I might add if you saw my diminutive mother. Not So.......during the days leading up to our departure I was bombarded with request s for certain types of biscuits and various other delicacies – mother seemed to think that we may perish from lack of nourishment on our journey. As I wanted this to be a special memory for her I went out of my way to provide all her favourites including I’m sorry to say, a bottle of Scotch (her request). She also requested some beer which fortunately I failed to provide. All the provisions required a chiller bag (for milk and the cheese mother habitually has for breakfast), a supply of her beloved bananas, butter and her favourite dark chocolate ginger).


As I had KO’d her suitcase, I suggested she just leave her clothes on hangers which I could drape over the back seat of the Cruiser. Of course I had my own stuff and I think that between us we could have provided the stock for a well provisioned Pharmacy! So, we had a total of at least 6 bags, my laptop, handbags and various clothes on hangers. Lovely! Off we went.


The first day was weather perfect as we made our way through Moora, Carnamah and on to Perenjori. Sadly for mum, her MD means that sparkling days like that one are somewhat difficult for her. Dark glasses are an absolute must. When we arrived in Perenjori we went straight out to view the flowers. There was rain forecast for the following day so I wanted her to see the carpets of flowers while the going was good. Blissfully, it was everything I had promised and she was duly amazed by the spectacle. I know that her eyesight is impaired because of the MD but her eyesight is adequate for her to enjoy most things still.

Just by the by, one of the things that was causing mother some stress and consternation was re-sitting her Driver’s Licence just before we left home. This was her main reason for being concerned about her eyes in fact. Amazingly, she passed! I don’t know how she managed to pass the eye test but once again the powers that be have decided that she can legally drive. She has vowed and declared to us however that she will only ever drive when absolutely compelled to do so. Thank goodness for that. I know it means a great deal to her, but truly, I don’t believe she should be driving. She has also vowed that she will not attempt to sit it again next year. Of course, she keeps telling me that doubtless she won’t still be around then. She also declares that if her eyesight continues to deteriorate she has no wish to remain here. I can understand that.


Anyway back to Perenjori. On the way to the best of the blossom we were lucky enough to spot a Mallee Fowl beside the road. I know I am pathetic, but it was my first Mallee Hen and I was stoked. Having seen the best of the flowers we went to book into a lovely little unit situated at the Perenjori CP. These are lovely little one bedroom units with all mod cons. Thankfully we managed to get one with two single beds. Mother seemed to think that we could share a double if necessary and was somewhat put out I think by my shuddered reaction to that suggestion. When I consider the matter, I am not sure why the thought repulses me the way it does, after all she is only little, doesn’t wet the bed and doesn’t snore anywhere nearly as loudly as DD, but .....................no!

Snow?

This is when I really began to appreciate and miss DD – there was a little walk and a few steps to manage with the luggage etc and what with being unfit and suffering very badly with my knee I found it quite exhausting to manage all the bits. Of course, you need to understand here that Mother Dear does absolutely nothing. This has very little to do with her age or supposed infirmity. Mother does Royal very well and simply expects that her loyal servants (namely me) will do everything. This does include seeing her safely up the stairs etc. Not that I mind that, after all she does need my help for these things. I think it is just she really does absolutely nothing when I am around. She would never consider making a cuppa for instance. When I am not around, she manages these little tasks quite well. Even when we go to see her, she never, but never makes me a cuppa. Everyone else yes, but not me. It is a very old habit of hers which goes right back to my childhood and I have to say, pees me of considerably.


I do understand that as she has to ‘do for herself’ these days it is just lovely to have someone else ‘do’ for her, but it could be tempered just a bit I feel. Before my father died, he ‘did everything’ for mum too, it has always been her way. It always amuses me when she complains of her own mother’s propensity for regal commands when she is just so much like her. I know DD does a great deal for me, but truly guys, it is not all a one way street. After all I do all the cooking etc and the darling man that he is, would not know where to find a can of baked beans on his own. I did make sure that I cooked all his meals before I left and gave adequate descriptions of where he would find all the necessary in my absence. Please, oh please tell me I am not like my mother!!!


During our drive to Perenjori we had stopped at a servo somewhere and bought sandwiches and chips for lunch. Chips are my mother’s very favourite food, and I have to confess to a partiality myself. Despite this, we decided to go to the local pub for tea. The food, I already knew from when DD and I had eaten there, was not marvellous, but the atmosphere was decidedly country and very pleasant. While we were at the pub Mother engaged in conversation with some fellow travellers. She discovered that the male partner was a volunteer driver for her neighbouring shire and they had an interesting if somewhat one -sided conversation. Mum had a beer with her meal and I had a white wine spritzer. After our meal we returned to the camp. Mother was both fascinated and appalled at the dress-code of the female caravanners. I (being one of those caravanners) am accustomed to the dress-code but mum just couldn’t get over how dowdy and unfeminine some of the campers appeared. She did however get an inside view to our lives and I think started to gain some perspective and appreciation of the lifestyle. During the course of the afternoon/evening I introduced mother to the joy of a coffee laced with a good dollop of scotch. Would that I had not introduced her to this little luxury – one that would turn around and bight me on the bum several days later!


I had a rather restless night sleeping across the room from mum. She however appeared to sleep fairly well. Not so I was informed in the morning when she declared that she had not slept at all. Hmmm, what then were those snores that emanated from her during the seeming hours when I could not achieve such somnolent bliss? Why then did she have no memory of me getting up early and preparing her breakfast while she still slumbered on? Mmm.


Sweeping views



Anyway, we breakfasted royally on all mum’s favourites. Fresh bananas, fresh dates, walnuts, brie and raisin toast drenched in real butter. What amazes me is that there is really nothing of her. The day dawned bleak and overcast and it had rained briefly during the night. I did the dishes, packed up our stuff, loaded the car, saw mother down the steps and into the Cruiser and we were off. I must tell you at this point of how we post mother into the car. The Cruiser is quite high off the ground, due not only to its design but also to the inflated air-bags under the rear suspension. I have to really stretch myself to get in and out. Mum is only little and as her legs have the habit of once in a blue moon giving way on her, I help her to find the hand-grips inside the car then when she is ready place my hands under her bum and give her a good posting into the car. I have seen many a person break into a broad grin watching our manoeuvres. I guess it looks all the more odd as mother has a distinctly royal appearance.


Despite the overcast and rainy weather mum really enjoyed our travels that day. The dim conditions were easier on her eyes and she liked the contrast from the previous day. She had never really experienced out-back storms and was amazed and thrilled by the events. The weather didn’t really make the driving very easy as we passed through constant little storms and the visibility was often very poor. We took all the back roads (and very nearly one wrong road that really would have taken us off the beaten track) and somehow ended up more or less where I had planned. For some reason I cannot convince DD that we need some new maps and whilst I had meant to get some myself before leaving home, had overlooked that minor problem and so had to do a little guesswork. I usually do all the navigating when DD and I are travelling, but had for once not been responsible for the route we had taken from Kalbarri to Mullewa and so was not too sure of my way there. I must have zigged when I should have zagged as instead of coming out just below Northampton we came out around 50ks above. Not a major problem.


I had decided that we would not stay in Northampton but continue on to Kalbarri that night, so we drove back southwards through the picturesque town of Northampton and onto the coast road leading into Kalbarri. I could have taken the inland route but wanted mum’s first impressions of our beloved Kalbarri to be via the ocean. The countryside along that route is very pretty and the Pink Lake that day was almost magenta in colour, really striking! We were amazed to see a sleek fox speed across the road ahead of us and also saw a large black feral cat. I know very well all the reasons why these creatures are abhorred and should not be here, but I cannot help but feel a pang of admiration and pity for them in their tough existence. Despite all my best intentions the weather was such that the visibility across the ocean leading into Kalbarri was very poor and all we had were misty images of the ocean.

Spider Orchids

Waves pounding the Bluff

Kalbarri across the river mouth

Best laid plans! I had thought that we would stay at the Kalbarri Hotel as recommended by DD. When I enquired there however it evolved that the only room available was really grotty being one of their ‘un-renovated’ rooms and it contained no toaster, no rails in the shower for mum and was basically basic. The girl there was lovely and very kindly warned me of the room and showed it to me just in case it met my needs. So, onwards and as it turned out, upwards! Egged on my Mother who was quite rightly for her, treating this as a once in a lifetime event, we looked for accommodation along the ocean/river front and finally found a lovely self-contained unit overlooking the break. Sadly for yours truly it was on the first floor! Wonderful! The lady who booked us in managed to get us some help getting our stuff up to the room and there were vague promises of help again when we were leaving, yeah, right!!


That was Friday afternoon latish. Once again we had found food at a servo in Mullewa (more chips!) and really did not feel that we could manage eating out that night. Moreover, eating out would have required me to walk and down and back up those steps again. My knee, after driving all day, jumping in and out of the Cruiser and lumping stuff up those stairs was really giving me curry, as they say. Needless to say, we decided that I should go and get some supplies from the local IGA and eat in that evening. Neither of us wanted a proper meal but thought we could eat something. As an oven was provided I thought some oven heated nibblies would suffice. And so they did, we dined royally on odds and sods washed down by more scotch laced coffee. I had also taken a cask of Cowboy with us and that also sustained me during the evenings. Don’t get the wrong idea here, we had one magic coffee each and then Mother would have maybe 2 glasses of scotch and something and I would have the equivalent in Cowboys. Very modest all things considered.


I must say Mum really did very well, after all she also had to climb those stairs – I really think she is far fitter than me, she just has trouble seeing where to put her feet. No small problem of course. Saturday morning dawned reasonably fine with brief squalls flitting over the area during the day. I took mum out and showed her those of the ocean cliffs which were either easily viewed from the car window or had small and easy walks. The wild-flowers alongside these walks were prolific and the day was lovely. We had lunch at Rosie’s overlooking the break (mum had her favourite fish and chips) and we took home some goodies for tea for that night and the next. On returning to the unit we rested and watched the break from the comfort of our unit. We had a tiny little balcony where we enjoyed our morning coffee but it was a little too windy later in the day. That night we ate sparingly but continued our now usual drinkies. Mother retired to her bed at around 8.30 leaving me to watch the movie on TV. Incidentally, she had the double bed in the bedroom with all the luxuries whilst I managed on a single bed in the main living area. She felt a bit guilty about this, but had declared when we first arrived that she needed ‘drawers’ next to her bed in which distribute all her gear. I didn’t really mind and was happy to have access to the telly after she went to bed. Once again she had suggested we share the bed. No, no, no...............


Sunday we once again started the day with coffee on our little balcony and then went forth to explore. We managed to get into the local homestead and mum was fascinated with the enterprise there. The lass who admitted us, was a German backpacker and mother engaged her in a long conversation. Mum always claims to hate people, but also claims an over-riding interest in others. This I would have to say is true. She was truly interested in what this girl was doing. The scenery into the homestead was majestic and made all the more so by the cloud shadows cast by the scudding clouds overhead. Vast red cliffs set against the green and gold of the spring bush were just amazing in the early morning light. From the homestead we drove up to the lookout enjoying more spectacular scenery along the drive.

Day's end



The Bluff



Mum was starting to lag a little but we went to the Rainbow Jungle to see all the beautiful parrots and the very pretty water gardens. After enjoying a coffee and muffin there we drove out along the shore again once again enjoying the cliffs and ocean. We were fortunate enough to have a big swell that day and so the surf was quite spectacular. We saw surfers cheating death along some of the breaks, being towed in by surf skis to surf the huge waves.


I had promised mum lunch at the pub while we were there and this was our last chance. As luck would have it there was a huge party going on at the local and so we were compelled to go around to the local tavern instead. Once again mother indulged in her favourite fish and chips. She joined me in a white wine spritzer and after a leisurely lunch we returned to the unit for a rest.


We duly rested and then enjoyed a scotched coffee and a couple of drinks as we had on previous evenings. Whales were cavorting just the other side of the break and whilst we couldn’t actually see them, we had a good view of the giant splashes that ensued. All was good until I had a phone call from my daughter-in-law. Perhaps it was the scotch, perhaps it was that I was by then pretty tired or perhaps it was just the law of averages that specified that Mother and I could not spend more than 3 days together without a little of our past catching up with us. Whatever it was, suddenly she was on the attack! It was completely out of the blue and took me by surprise. Sadly for mother where once sat a meek, mild and obedient child, now sits a fairly feisty female who will not be attacked in that manner. Heated words were spoken, I’ll save you the pain of what they were about, suffice to say my mother is eternally jealous, particularly where my time is concerned and I am defensive of those I love.


The evening deteriorated more when I was accused of belonging to the ‘selfish generation’! Oh dear, I cannot imagine many words set to inflame me more! Mum really has no idea of just how much we have put our lives on hold for her or just how much we have altered our lifestyle for her benefit. I of course, was incensed. It seems that part of her logic spanned around ‘spending the kids inheritance’ – it shows you how unreasonable she was being by that stage as she had obviously read this on a bumper sticker and decided to use it to her advantage. This is not like her at all. She is generally a highly intelligent individual who makes up her own mind about things. I guess we had been slightly at odds all the time too about politics. She had been particularly outspoken about her thoughts on all things political since we had left home and as we are almost diametrically opposed on those matters, I had been having difficulty not biting on some of her caustic comments.


The other issue was her language. You who know me well, know that I am capable of using some fairly colourful language myself when the moment calls for it and I am by no way a prude. BUT.... when your diminutive, regal , 86 year old mother insists on using the word F...ck at every possible opportunity, for some reason it grates. The amazing thing is that when DD is around she rarely exposes this side of her nature. The other unrelenting commentary from mother related to duty, a daughter’s duty to her mother that is. This infuriates me as I am not here for duty, but ironically despite all that has happened between us over the years, I do what I do because I love her. Unfortunately some old wounds were re-opened, probably on both sides of the line and we were a very prickly pair indeed when retiring for bed that evening.


Early Monday morning I woke and packed up all I could prior to breakfast and made a series of painful journeys up and down those bloody stairs to the car. By the time I woke Mother I was showered, breakfast was ready and she only needed to eat and shower before we could leave. Coffee on the balcony was a slightly cool affair, but as I cannot stand that sort of tension I managed to make amends and we were back on reasonable terms by the time I had her safely in the car.


The trip home was beautiful. We drove home via the Midlands road and the fitfully cloudy day provided us with stunning scenery. Mum particularly loves the deep blue cloud shadows which play across the landscape on these sorts of days. We stopped at the Cataby Roadhouse for lunch and then made our fairly leisurely way home.


Whilst mother did really enjoy her break and I know she was very appreciative, it was a shame that it had to be marred by our tiff on the Sunday night. She really is driven by some strange gremlins at times.


Since I dropped mother off on Monday afternoon two weeks ago we have had more dramas with my daughter in law being taken to hospital in an ambulance twice within a week. They are still not quite certain as to what caused her serious pain but it would seem to be related to both a blockage in the small intestine caused by scar tissue and some sort of tummy bug associated with her auto-immune system. All seems to be OK now, but this week she goes back to hospital to have some repair work done on her scars.


We have been offered and have accepted the chance to live at/caretake a 50 acre property in Bullsbrook. We move out there next Sunday so stay tuned for our country adventures.


In the meantime, BE NICE TO YOUR MOTHERS even when they are not nice to you......Steph.

Back to Kalbarri

Red Bluff in the morning light

A perfect moment in Time



Early morning on the Murchison



Well, hi there! We are back in lovely Caversham in the beautiful Swan Valley. Since we last spoke we have been to Green Head where we caught up with good friends Steve & Sylvia and then onwards and upwards to Kalbarri. I know it’s not that long since we visited Kalbarri, but during the Perth winter (and we really did have one this year), Kalbarri is a good spot to be. Close enough to town for the trip up to be done easily and yet far enough away to give us a breather!



Surprisingly the weather in Kalbarri this winter was also just a tad on the wintery side with daytime max in the low to mid 20s and night temps plummeting to somewhere around the 8 degree mark. On top of that it rained and then it rained some more and yet more! Not surprising you may think, BUT Kalbarri generally has a very low winter rainfall, but not this year. Did any of this bother us? Not one little bit! As usual we loved our stay there. I won’t bore you with any descriptions of the place as I’m sure I did enough of that last year as we passed thru’ the place.

One small thrill for us was the Tawny Frogmouths. When we pulled in there last October the tree next to the van was occupied by a pair of Tawny Frogmouths. For the duration of our stay they spent their days roosting in a sad little paperbark tree with very little foliage or protection. They became quite special to us. Lo and behold when we pulled into the same spot again this year the same pair was still happily ensconced in the little tree. They remained there once again for the first 5 weeks of our stay and then one of them failed to return leaving the other to keep solitary vigil for the remainder of our 6 week stay. We very much hope that the missing bird has gone nesting and that no harm has come her way. During the day they barely moved except to ‘stump’ if they perceived any danger and at nightfall each evening they would steal away on silent wings. DD has managed to get an abundance of shots of the pair, some of them quite good. Their camouflage is exceptional as you will see from the photos.


As usual our stay in Kalbarri was very social, made all the more so by a chance meeting with fellow members of the Supreme Owners Group, John and Margaret. They were travelling with a couple of old mates and we became sort of swept up into the ever expanding group of people who gathered each afternoon for sundowners. Disastrous for my ever expanding middle! I don’t know what it is about munchies, but I just don’t seem to be able to ignore them if they are sitting in front of me. Quite embarrassing really! After a while I tried to abstain by simply not attending drinkies. I dare say I was considered rude but sadly I have come to terms with my own limitations.


We made some great new friends and also caught up with some from previous years. We have been to Kalbarri now for 5 years running, all at different times of the year and one thing we notice is that the place has a loyal following of annual visitors.


The park has a bum-fight each Thursday evening with $3s a pop for either home -made soup, a burger or a sausage in a roll (with the trimmings). More often than not there will be someone talented there who will entertain the troops so to speak. This time we had a fellow with a piano accordion as well as a country and western duo. The fires are lit for the occasion and a good time is had by all. This custom also brings campers together.


We spent our time happily checking out the coast, searching for wild-flowers, painting, reading and in DD’s case, playing the market. Steve and Sylvia took time away from their beloved Green Head and came to stay for a day or so and many a game of cards was played and a couple of dollars changed hands. Sadly I think I lost most of my ‘washing machine money’ in the process. Although we travel with our own little washing machine, I do occasionally use the bigger camp machines if I have a larger load than usual.


Yellow Orchids



Due to the very wet season the wild-flowers in and around the township were coming into bloom in considerable abundance. We probably left just before they peaked but they were wonderful nevertheless.


Kalbarri had a couple of very large swells whilst we were there also and this made for some spectacular surf and good photo opportunities. I even managed to get up at dawn one day and shoot the Bluff in the early morning light. All of this gave me the perfect excuse for a couple of very Kalbarri-esque paintings. Once I remember to have DD photograph them I will post them for your entertainment.

Big waves crashing in on the cliffs

As seems to have become the norm, we extended our initial stay of 5 weeks to 6 and then reluctantly said good-bye once again to this little paradise. This time however, instead of heading straight home or home via the coast, we took an inland route in order to better experience the wild-flower season. We are told that due to the perfect weather conditions experienced this year it is the best season for some 50 years!


From Kalbarri we travelled to Mullewa, a small wheat town with an appalling name for racial unrest. It seems that a fairly serious brawl had been fought a couple of weeks prior to our visit pursuant to a local footy match. I have to say that the town, despite some effort to the contrary was not particularly appealing with mesh and bars across most of the windows and doors. Broken glass littered the sidewalks and most of the commercial buildings seemed to be closed and boarded up. Dogs of every size and description mournfully wandered the streets and sitting in the car waiting for DD outside the local servo I felt just a tad un-nerved and vulnerable as a few likely types
sauntered past taking what seemed an inordinate interest in the Cruiser. I dare say I was uncharacteristically over-reacting.



The Caravan Park there is run by the Shire and would have to be the easiest park we have seen so far to stay in without paying. Don’t get me wrong, incurably honest types that we are we certainly payed, but how on earth they keep tabs on it was beyond us. The park itself was quite good and the amenities block was surprisingly immaculate and well maintained. I suspect that the local church ladies keep it under control as they seemed to have a fair number of ads and pamphlets posted on the walls there. A good system it would seem. Whilst the park was fully serviced we ended up with a site without water due to the sheer number of vans there. The wild-flower season combined with the Country Show/Field Day season saw a huge number of vans on the country roads and in the parks.


The first day rained non -stop so we turned a 2 night stop-over into a 3 night stop-over and spent the first day there gloriously luxuriating in doing absolutely nothing. I know it sounds weird after relaxing so much at Kalbarri, but frankly the social whirl there leaves you just a little jaded and some quiet time with books was really welcome.


The second day was beautiful without a cloud in the sky and so off we went to see the famous Wreath Flowers. We did finally find them and were duly amazed. They really do look like Christmas Wreaths, circular with cream and red flowers. Quite special! More special tho’ were the carpets of everlastings and such. I had heard about these wonderful displays but had never fully understood just how amazing they are.


From Mullewa we moved on down to Perenjori and still with wonderful weather once again went hunting for blossom. We took a gravel road out to John Forest Lookout and found there the most amazing display of floral splendour you could ever imagine. Acres upon acres of pink, white and yellow interspersed with glowing purples and blues. We have some good photos so instead of boring you with my dialogue I will post some photos instead. You will see that the deep red of the soil, the dead branches of trees and the brilliance of the flowers is an absolute feast for the eyes.


The crops this year are also amazing so we were blessed with acres of deep green wheat fields mixed with the brilliant yellow of the canola fields. Occasionally we would spot a field where the farmer for whatever reason had departed. Sadly not a few farmers have walked off their farms, particularly in those marginal areas where we were travelling. Years of drought combined with all manner of disasters often culminates in the direst of consequences. The untilled fields were sometimes gold with dandelions whilst others were silver under the sun with the stubble of the previous year.


From Mullewa we moved down to Perenjori, another tiny wheat-belt town. Perenjori was delightful, a clean and neat little town with a great deal of local pride on display. We thoroughly enjoyed the local caravan park which sported facilities for open fires. DD was in his element, getting a sparkling fire going late each afternoon and then cheerily inviting fellow campers to join him for sundowners in front of the fire. We met some lovely folk this way along with their 4 legged friends who also came along to enjoy the warmth of the fire.


The CP was run by the local shire and we found it to be a well maintained and cheerful spot to stay. On the other hand good friends of ours have since stayed there on our recommendation and have found the amenities block to be somewhat lacking. As I shower in the van perhaps I was less than observant about the showers but they did seem OK to me. I guess it depends on what you are looking for. We love the aspect of a bush camp, especially when all mod-cons are offered. It seems to be the best of both worlds to us.


We spent 3 nights in Perenjori and then drove straight back to Caversham from there, passing through Carnamah and Moora on the way. We delighted in the Midlands Road which was also coming alive with wild-flowers. The drive down through Bindoon was just stunning with all the green fields, canola crops and undulating hills set off to advantage under the scudding clouds of a blustery day.


Rather than blather on more I will attempt to post sufficient photos to convince you of beauty of our wonderful home state.




Carpets of blossoms along the roadside

 Love for now, be tolerant and share the joy – Steph.