Dora Creek Diary

Flood reporting

2011-01-12T14:28:00.000+11:00

I've been watching the covereage of the Queensland floods.

Why do reporters ask such inane questions of people in times of crisis? How do they expect people to feel when their homes have been washed away in the floodwaters, when they have seen their neighbours' houses smashed by a torrent, when they have watched helpless as a car and its occupants float by? By all means, ask what happened, but don't ask "How are you feeling?" I'm surprised no-one has turned on the reporters and said "How the bloody hell do you think I am feeling?" Or maybe some have, but they are not the bits that get shown.

The transforming power of light

2011-01-02T15:40:00.019+11:00

1.

Who’d come and paint sweet Dora Creek?
Leave out the rubbish
     Scattered by the bin,
And at night, the corner shop’s bright flashing light
     Hot pink and blue.
     A mini homage to
some greater sign –
Kings Cross perhaps? Or Piccadilly?

Plastic chairs and tables don’t quite
Channel Paris despite umbrellas on the pavement.
Customers in thongs and baggy sweats slump slobbily
Over frothy coffee. After three o’clock the louts-in-waiting
Scoff their hot chips and crumple coke cans.

                                                                               Next year,
like their older brothers, will they smash the panes
of the telephone booth and screech wheelies down the street?
Leave out the black marks and shards of glass when you paint
pretty Dora Creek.

Attend instead to the pastel patches—
     Those shimmering smudges which nudge the bank.
Reflection sweetens both tired old shacks
and flash new homes with boats to match.

2.

Lakeside,
         Wangi Workers shines its own bright beacon,
calling to the tired and the bored,
to visitors and long-term locals and those
newly-retired at nearby Wangi Shores.
Roast offerings of lamb and pork and beef
(with chips and veg and gravy ladled over),
cheap Chinese, and monster chicken schnitzel
Are provided.
                         Order and eat under fluorescent glare.
In other rooms, yet more lights attract:
Beer signs beam steadily from the bar,
A band pumps colours in a rhythm different to its sound and
Beyond a part-glass door, the pokies flash their charms.
Outside, the neon glows.
Fractured light ripples past the quiet boats
                                                         To meet the moon.

Online again in 2011

2011-01-02T13:41:00.007+11:00

2010 has been and gone, and most of 2009 before it - without me having posted here. So much for my '(almost)daily' intentions. So with the new year, new intentions.

Part of the problem has been that if I limit the focus of this to local and personal happenings, I run out of things to write. There's only so many times I can comment on the flowers and rainbows - lovely though they are. Although some people can make a lifetime's work out of local and parochial commentary. Or paintings, or poems or sculptures on a limited range of subjects... as they perfect their skills, or find infinite variety and beauty and challenge in a small domain.

Not that everything here is beautiful, and I have been reluctant to comment on that which is less attractive. I don't want to offend anyone with whom I might have to interact - being perhaps a bit of a coward - and this is a small place. Being a small place, it has its limitations. Being a small place, it has its advantages.

We had various friends and family come visit over the holiday period. Some came for lunch on different days, some came to stay a day or two. Everyone comments on how peaceful and lovely it is, and over the last week it has been particularly lovely, with long sunny hot days, the creek and my pool sparkling and the big birds - probably white-bellied sea eagles - soaring high on the thermals. The fish have been jumping furiously in the late afternoons - jumping for insects, for life, or for joy - who can tell? We sit down on the jetty and enjoy a cup of tea or a cool drink at the end of the day , watching the light change on the the trees and the water and the peace is interrupted by splash after splash after splash of leaping fish. Each day they seem to come a little closer to the jetty: yesterday B said if we held out a landing net one was sure to jump straight into it.

All our city visitors enjoy the chance to see the wildlife. There are the fish, and a variety of birds. As well as the eagles we see cockatoos, lorikeets, corellas, herons, magpies, crows, Native and Indian Minors, butcher birds. We hear the Koels - I like their repetitive liquid tones, but B doesn't, and I have heard bell birds occasionally. There are many more birds including pelicans, black swans, and cormorants. And there are the lizards. We have large water dragons hiding out under the jetty. They like to stretch out along the sea wall to soak up the sunshine. The dogs like to chase them off the sea wall and into the water. First thing in the morning when I let the dogs out they are off to the bottom of the garden barking and scaring the lizards. We also have blue-tongue lizards hiding out under the pool side decking and the dogs like to scare them up too. Fortunately, the lizards are quick to scurry.

So those are some of the charms. Less attractive - and part of the price for living in a semi-rural area - is the smell of manure on a still, hot summer night. There are cows in the fields across the creek, but the smell probably comes from the chicken-raising sheds up the hill. There are a few in this area. Chicken shit is great for the garden, but in industrial quantities it sure raises a pong. If there is a wind, we don't smell anything, but on a calm night the odour can be distinctive. And it's those same warm calm nights when we really appreciate being able to sit outside and dine alfresco. Fortunately we don't smell it often - either that or our olfactory systems are quickly desensitize to the smell.

Even less attractive than the side-effects of a staple food production are the ugly behaviours of the human animal. There's the loutish behaviours of the bored young boys (and probably some girls) who are out late, unsupervised, probably a bit the worse for drink. There's the odd bit of graffiti, the odd bit of vandalism, and the broken glass and empty bottles and cans strewn in the park areas along the creek - they haven't even bothered to put their rubbish in the adjacent bins. Then there's the too-loud music played until 4 in the morning by someone along the street or up the hill with a hugely powerful bass system: no melody to be heard, but the thump thump thump of drums reverberates through my whole house and body. It doesn't happen often, but when it does I get really, really angry.

I lie in bed and fantasise how I might get my own back on these insensitive noisemakers.

Sometimes I imagine sneaking up to the culprit's house and just flipping the switches in the electricity box so that nothing works and it cannot be turned back on. Other times I imagine giving them a dose of their own medicine: blasting them at close quarters with a bit of full-on Wagner or brass band, or police siren sounds. I imagine waiting for a different time of day, mid morning, perhaps, when they are in recovery mode, and then cranking up the biggest system I can find, with a monster megaphone funneling sounds at maximum volume straight into their room. (The megaphone is a special design so that the sound is only heard where it is directed.) Part of that fantasy is that the sound JUST KEEPS ON GOING AND THEY CANNOT ESCAPE and I don't let up until they are grovellingly sincere in their promise that they will never inflict their noise on me again.

But of course, I never actually do anything. I drift in and out of sleep and am too tired during my awake moments to get out of bed and find which house the noise is coming from. Unless I have developed a migraine, in which case I am too ill to get out of bed to do anything except heave in the bucket. Funny how the throb of the migraine tries to synchronise with the throb of the music; and fails because this 'music' has such an asynchronous non-rhythm.

But as I said, it doesn't happen often. Generally this is a quiet and peaceful and lovely place to be, and the biggest noise at the moment is the splashing of the fish and the sounds of the cicadas. Did you know that cicadas make the loudest noise of all insects? At over 120 Db the Green Grocer cicada can hurt the human ear. So next time the local human noise makers annoy me I think I'll fill their house with a truckload of singing cicadas.

Reading and writing and rain

2009-03-27T23:33:00.003+11:00

Today it really feels as though summer is over. I woke to the sound of heavy rain on the roof: a brief but dense shower which means I did not have to worry about watering the garden and pot plants. I had been warm during the night, so much so that I had thrown off my duvet, but I felt cold at 4:30 AM. My alarm went off at seven, but I snuggled down in the half dark and dozed, listening to the news bulletins and then the morning classical music program. Of course I did get up eventually, rubbing the grits of sleep from my eyes, brushing the night breath from my teeth, scrambling through my knicker drawers for clean undies, and dragging on the relatively clean clothes I had warned last night. After all there was no need to dress for anyone: B is away enjoying the subtropics of Noosa, leaving me in some peace and quiet so that I can get on with my first lot of assignments of the year.

I took the car in for a service, and whiled away my waiting time reading Jeanette Winterson's "Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit". I'd started this last night, and was so captivated by it, that after I got back from having the car serviced, I continue to read it until I had finished it. I then spent an hour or two searching the Internet and the online facilities of my university library to find out more about Ms Winterson and in particular this book. I had read it when it first came out or soon after, and while I had remembered the bones of the story, and had remembered how excited I had been by the way in which it was written I had forgotten all the details-both of the story, and of the style.

I do so admire the ability that some people have to critique a written work. I know I am going to use "Oranges" in one of my assignments, so as I read I try to look beneath the surface, to identify technique, and elements of style. I try in my mind to articulate what it is that is going on, how it is that this writer manipulates images and emotions and ideas. I try to identify the metaphors and the symbolism, but mostly I just get caught up in the story. I know that there is more to the story than just the story, and I know that my thinking is expanded by works of this quality as opposed to just merely entertained and amused. At least I think my thinking is expanded or it may just be that I recognise in some writers' works things that I have always known or felt or believed, but have never been able to say.

But then I read other people's commentaries and find that they see other things, some little, some large, as well is seeing some of the things that I see. And some of these critics write so clearly about their interpretations that I feel there is no point in me writing mine, they have already said it and much more besides. So I struggle in my essays sometimes, to find and clearly articulate a new idea, because I really cannot see the point in merely re-presenting what has already been said by others, and said so well. After all, I have not gone back to uni merely to acquire a degree - I have gone back to develop and grow my own thinking and writing capabilities.

Ant cleanliness

2009-03-24T20:56:00.004+11:00

I fished an ant and a ladybug out of my swimming pool this afternoon as I was cleaning the filter box. They were both still alive, much to my surprise, and I watched as the ladybug navigated its way over the rough terrain of the pebble dash pool surround. The and, a medium-sized black everyday garden variety type of ant, walked a few steps and then began to clean itself using its forelegs. First it wiped its antennae, then the rest of its head, then its middle legs and its back legs. I have seen flies cleaning themselves; rubbing their heads between their forelegs sometimes seeming to twist their heads to an alarming extent. I did not know that ants did the same thing, but then I have never really thought about it before. This ant reminded me of my cat in the way in which it gave careful detailed attention to each part of its body before moving on to the next.

Water view

2009-03-20T17:33:00.002+11:00

Yesterday I sat on my jetty in the morning sunshine and watched the water flow. The creek seemed slow, solid, heavy; blocking the spaces between the banks, filling and flattening and somehow solid looking, so smooth was the surface in the early morning stillness.

CATCHING UP

2009-02-12T23:00:00.003+11:00

To all my blog followers who have missed me, and asked - I am well, thank you, but have just been incredibly busy these last weeks (months). Since term finished my almost orderly routine has vanished! and only now as the holiday season ends can I see my way back into it.

B and I have just had a week away in Melbourne, yes, during those awful fires. It was my first substantial visit to the city, and the unfolding tragedy and horror happening only a few hundred kilometres away provided an overtone of sadness which made it difficult to have a completely carefree break. B has family in one of the at risk areas, and they evacuated as a precaution a few days ago, but after rain yesterday/today can now go home.

We held off making a donation to the Red Cross Bushfire Appeal until we knew they and their home were safe -they may have to wash and clean for days to remove the smell and stain of smoke but will not be complaining in the face of the losses that many others have suffered.

We got home to find that Dora Creek had suffered its own severe weather event - a ferocious little summer hailstorm the previous evening. We had no major damage, but my vegie garden is shredded!

Rainbow magic

2008-12-04T14:11:00.002+11:00

As the rain cleared last week I looked out of the window and saw this reflected rainbow. I just had to capture it, and it stayed around long enough for me to get new batteries into the camera and several shots. Just magic.

Party planning

2008-12-04T13:50:00.003+11:00

It's been another very busy few days. On Saturday a bunch of friends came around for 'drinks and nibblies' and it turned into a lovely sociable dinner. One friend brought a pot of curry, another a huge bowl of beautiful Queensland prawns, someone else provided a 'sweet treat' and yet another a platter of home-made ricotta cheese and sushi rolls - all I had to do was lay out some cheeses and olives and crackers and nuts, cook up a pot of rice and make up a salad. But off course, cleaning the house before hand to make sure it was respectable took a bit of time; and during the evening I was so busy getting plates and cooking the rice and making sure everyone was sufficiently fed and watered that I hardly had a decent conversation with anyone! Lots of little bits of conversations, but not much substantial. That's what happens when you're the host. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

I found I could get 12 people comfortably seated in my kitchen/dining room. B and I brought up the little table which normally sits on my jetty to add to the kitchen table, and I moved some of the bits which normally clutter up this room (small table/trolley, magazine rack, spare dog bed) into the laundry - where most of them have stayed. I like a bit more space in the kitchen.

I used to think it would be great to hold 'salons' of the type I read about in French stories, where the artists and intellectuals of the day would come and hold forth with great ideas and opinions. It would be wonderful to be present with all that energy and knowledge and enthusiasm - but after last Saturday night I realise that if I was to host such such soiree's I'd be too busy attending to the guests to join in properly and I'd only ever hear half an idea. One must have servants to do that sort of thing in style.

Which is why I am glad that this weekend, the occasion of my parent's 50th wedding anniversary and my dad's 80th birthday, the event is to be catered. We shall be cruising on one of the Palm Beach Ferries - the little one, the Myra, for a lunchtime do.

My parents - that is, my mother - won't have to do a thing. They can just enjoy themselves and their friends.

Sailing, cleaning and sunshine

2008-11-28T13:56:00.007+11:00

I don't know what I've been doing for the past week, but blogging hasn't been part of it. I complain that there aren't enough hours in the day to do everything; after yesterday I've decided the answer is to sleep a lot less.

Yesterday, B and I got up early, at 5 o'clock. I dropped him off at a local jetty so he could join a friend on a trip down the coast from Lake Macquarie to Port Hacking. There was a strong wind warning and I was a little anxious for him - he's never sailed down the coast before. As I stood on the deck of our friend's boat I wished it was me that was heading out. Feeling that familiar motion of a yacht on the water brought back so many memories for me. But I waved them off and took the dogs for a walk along the waterfront. I needed to kill some time before the petrol station opened - my car was just about out of fuel! I stopped for a cup of tea with some friends who are living nearby and watched the day brighten, the sky becoming clear and blue, and the pelicans paddling just off the shore. It was very pleasant sitting on their balcony, and not yet even 7 am.

Here are the dogs back in the car: there's my two Cavalier King Charles spaniels (Bozo and Penny) , and B's red kelpie (Blue) looking his usual imperious self.

Back home, I decided it was time to capture the current state of some of my plants: baby lemons;

Parlsey gone monstrously to seed! and

the beatifully perfumed trumpet flower. It only releases its perfume in the evening; when I step outside the house onto my terrace after dark the air is rich with scent.

At this point it is still only 8 am, and after a quick bite I decide the day is far too nice to spend inside catching up on paperwork and housework, so I clean the boat. That takes me most of the day. I also get sunburnt. At day's end I am so so tired, and quite sore - muscles as well as sunburnt skin! but my wee boat is halfway decent and I feel really satisfied. And today it is raining again, so I am catching up on the inside stuff.

B, by the way, had a really good trip down the coast. They motored all the way since there was not enough wind to sail well.

Evening delight

2008-11-18T08:59:00.005+11:00

I was tired and not really in the mood, but had agreed to go with B to a friend's place for a sundowner. As I left the house I thought "what I really want is a good cup of tea."

These friends have a lovely, lovely property, with views down to the lake (Lake Macquarie) from almost every room. On a sunny clear-sky day the lake sparkles blue and the trees almost glow in their greenness and the whole is a total delight; on a grey day the lake is silvered if calm or ruffled dark when the wind gets up but the whole is always life-enhancing. Our hostess was feeling miserable with a horrible cold, but in her usual determined good-humoured welcoming manner, was not going to let that get in the way of anyone else's enjoyment.

The thought of tea went out the window! B arrived soon after me, and together with our host we went for a meander around the garden. The blueberry ash has soft tasselled small pink flowers dressing its branches, and the native frangipani flowers cast their sweet subtle perfume on the evening air. B picked some of the latter for my hair, and took some of the former for cuttings. The flowers wouldn't stay in my hair, so I stuck them with the blueberry ash stems into an empty wine bottle - and hey presto, we had a casual flower arrangement on the kitchen bench.

It was a good start to a lovely evening which evolved into an impromptu dinner. Our hostess took her horrible cold off to bed with her quite early, and not long after I left the men yacking and came home with my tiredness. The guys must have been having some good conversation - it was more than an hour before B followed me!

Red Shoes Ballet

2008-11-17T00:50:00.003+11:00

On Saturday went to see "The Red Shoes" ballet at Newcastle's Civic Theatre. The ballet was beautiful and emotional. Some stunning costumes, particularly in the enchanted dance sequence, where her red shoes keep the ballerina dancing through to exhaustion. Such a shame it was accompanied by a recorded sound track rather than a live orchestra - but of course that would have added hugely to the cost, especially for this touring performace from the West Australian Ballet - it's a long way from Perth to Newcastle.

I had a delightful little girl sitting next to me; this 6 or 7 year old followed everything, and understood all the important points in the ballet, as I could tell from her excited whispered comments and questions to her mother. "He's so angry, isn't he?" "Look, they're fighting over her!" "Why is he so sad?" The auditorium had quite a few girls in the audience, some very young, but obviously would-be ballerinas.

There is such a magic in dance. Beyond my sheer admiration (and envy) for what these dancers can do with their bodies (so supple, so strong, so controlled) I am amazed at their emotional expressiveness - not a word spoken but anguish, tenderness, joy, snobbery, tension, love, happiness, fury all there in the movement.

Lightshow

2008-11-15T08:13:00.003+11:00

B and I watched the thundergods at work last night. Sharp bright streaks and sheets and sudden glows of lightening flashed away to the south and west, and then we'd hear the great rolling roaring rumbling of the sky furniture shifting above us. We carried on enjoying our dinner, sitting outside in hot and humid air. Classic FM provided a doleful Mahler symphony in the background.
We'd almost finishing eating (stuffed zuchnni flowers and BBQ eye fillet steak and salad) when the wind arrived. We moved the spare condiments off the table and under cover just in case the rain hit strongly and suddenly. The wind danced about, first from the south then the east then the north, little puffs and eddies and all playful. A couple of drops of rain touched us. We finished our steaks and sipped our wine.
A few more drops of rain touched us. The air cooled. The wind steadied. We cleared the table, and moved upstairs, with the last of our wine, and sat on the balcony to watch the lightstorm as the storm cell moved across the sky. Then the rain arrived. Beautiful solid soaking rain.
As I write this on the following morning it is still raining, a light grey drizzle prickling the surface of the creek and my swimming pool. It seems I needn't have watered the garden yesterday.

Food for the dogs

2008-11-13T14:07:00.004+11:00

Yesterday being my first day after submission of final assignment for the year, and therefore the first day on which I could catch up on weeks worth of domestic duties, I suddenly found it was after 2 pm, and I was (not surprisingly) hungry. And really not wanting to be bothered with foraging in my own as-yet-not-properly-restocked kitchen. So I decided to treat myself to a burger from Eats by the Creek.

I haven't patronised them since they opened, apart from the odd bottle of milk and an occasional muffin, so I thought it was time to give them a proper go. Well, the burgers from the previous incarnation, Monties, were always pretty good, and the new owners have gutted the place and installed new cookers, bench tops, fans and cool room. And it all looks cleaner and neater and more spacious.

By the time I get up there - it's only a 3 minute drive, but it takes me 20 minutes to settle the dogs and hang out the last load of washing and make sure I've got the right keys for my post box (because I haven't been collecting my snail mail recently - been too busy) and get into the care - so by the time I get their I am really really hungry. I peruse the menu, and decide on a chicken ceasar burger over the plain chicken burger. I like the idea of a bit of extra salad and bacon and cheese - and I like ceasar dressing. And then I add a small serve of hot chips.

When I place my order for the chicken ceaser burger, the woman serving asks if I've had one before. When I say no, she laughingly says I wont want any dinner after eating it. I tell her I'm hungry and that would be OK. When I add the chips to the order she laughs again and says I really won't want any dinner. I tell her I have three dogs (my two plus I'm dogsitting for B who's gone to Melbourne on grandfather duties) and I'm sure they'll help me out.

The burger is big. Quite tasty, lots of chicken schitzel, not quite enough ceaser dressing (so I add some from my fridge) and just the right amount of lettuce. My hunger is not as big as the burger, let alone the chips. It is just as well the dogs are very happy to share it with me because I do hate waste!

Progress

2008-11-11T19:04:00.004+11:00

Dora Creek is on the up and up - there's a cash machine just been installed at the local cafe "Eats by the Creek". Before we know it we'll have traffic lights.

Well we probably need something at the intersection with the Main Road - trying to turn right out of Dora Creek means trusting your life to your accelerator, and to the brakes of the speeding gonzales racing across the bridge and around the blind corner from your left. I'm surprised that there aren't more accidents: perhaps its because the locals, living life at a more leisurely pace, are patient.

While I'm on the subject of cars, on to a related subject, fuel. Why is it that the Shell Station on the north side of Thomas St at Wallsend is always 3 cents a litre cheaper than the Shell Station on the south side of Thomas St? Always - well every time I go past, morning, noon and night.

But isn't it good to see the fuel price come down - especially now that it's summer and I don't have to travel into Newcastle several times a week. Bet it will be back up again come February!

Aches and flowers

2008-11-09T12:56:00.004+11:00

I went downstairs just now to get my camera and came back with a pair of shoes.

I blame my sore shoulder. My very, very, very sore shoulder. I don't know how I've done it, but it hurts. I have had trouble sleeping the past couple of nights, so much so that last night I almost cried - not so much for the pain, although that was bad enough, but because I felt so helpless. Almost every movement - and not just my left-arm movements, but almost every movement I made - resulted in a short sharp intense jabbing spasm. I had no idea that my left should was so intimately involved in the rest of my body's activities. So I haven't been able to do very much these last few days.

At 5 o'clock this morning I found a comfortable position and slept deeply for a few hours. I woke up feeling much better. Heat packs, Panadol, Feldene gel and time seem to be working. But it is still difficult to concentrate. Hence the shoes instead of the camera.

And why did I want the camera?

Remember that I brought back some cuttings from my trip to Boyne Island? Well, the Walking Iris has flowered. Here she is.

2008-11-07T23:54:00.004+11:00

Last night we went to The ACO (Australian Chamber Orchestra) recital in Newcastle. Fantastic. So much energy in this performance. The program was PROKOFIEV's Classical Symphony BRAHMS Double Concerto for violin and cello and BEETHOVEN's Symphony No.8 - but we got some end-of-year 'gifts' from Richard Tognetti and his team - a tear-producing rendition (well I had tears in my eyes) from Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker Suite" and a beautiful, but typically sombre piece by Sebelius - I didn't catch the name. I swear that the young man playing the cello in the Brahms concerto was standing 5 inches taller after the audience applause.

I don't know that much about classical music (or about music at all) but I have really enjoyed going to the ACO concerts in Newcastle - friends have involved me in their season ticket programme. I love watching the interplay between the players - their concentration on the leader (usually, but not always Richard Tognetti); their glances across the stage; the way the lead violinist jumps up and down when she's playing. And seeing the music live provides me with a sense that the different instruments are really playing with each other - outdoing each other, chasing each other across the field of sound, teasing each other , fighting, caressing, and sometimes singing together - they are people, but in sound form. Sometimes I feel the music as lines and colour and shapes dancing and floating and jumping and swirling and strutting and fighting. Sitting there, captive for an hour or two an making the music the focus of my attention is a different experience from playing Classic FM in the background while I'm doing other things (breakfast, washing, pottering).

Before the concert we went up Darby Street for dinner. The cheap and cheerful (except for last week when it was neither) eatery we have previously patronised and which I wrote about a few days ago after an abominable meal has shut up shop. The chairs and stools are stacked on the tables inside. It is really sad.

So instead we tried Zinc - funny name for restaurant - initially I thought it was Zest, which I could have understood. It was a good choice. Cheerful helpful staff. We sat outside in their little enclosed garden, and had the place pretty well to ourselves because we were eating early. Tasty food, especially the seafood risotto, and the lamb koftas and the meatballs were good too, with distinctive flavours. We'll definitely go there again.

Archibald at Lake Macquarie

2008-11-02T16:55:00.006+11:00

Another new experience last night: went to see the Archibald Prize 2008 winner and finalists on display at the Lake Macquarie Art Gallery. I'd never been in to the gallery before, although I have had lunch - and dinner - at the adjacent Awaba House Restaurant. It just has to be one of the most lovely locations on the Lake, with sweeping views down across the grounds to the waterfront which provide a sense of light and space.

Last night was a preview of the Regional Tour of the Archibald Prize exhibition - friends of mine are Friends of the Gallery and so I got a chance to go and as the Gallery Lady said, be without the crowds.

I wonder how crowded it will be? It is a great exhibition space and it was a pleasure to be able to wander around, with not too many other people around, to go back to and look again at some portraits, because another work had raised a question, or someone else had made a comment which made me want to go and look again at a a piece.

The last exhibition I went to was the Turner to Monet at the National Gallery in Canberra, and it was so crowded as to be uncomfortable and difficult and unenjoyable, despite the splendour of the works on display. And I had to pay for that experience - it was not money well spent.

I had to pay for last night too, but it was worth it - the music and wine and the snacks went down well, and so did the little introductory commentaries. One by Caleb Finton a local art lover whose collection will be bequeathed to the Gallery when he 'drops of his perch' as he likes to say. I've met Caleb a number of times through mutual friends, so it was good to hear a bit more of his and his family's story - Awaba House and its grounds were owned by relatives, and he has memories of Sunday lunches and climbing the trees as a boy.

The other commentary was by Leslie Rice, one of the artists in the exhibition. Such a young man, he seemed, but he has three children! This was not the first time he had entered the Archibald, but was the first time he had been selected for the exhibition. He told of going to collect his previous work from the packing room too soon; it was the night of the Prize announcement, and the NSW Art Gallery was busy. He saw an art-school acquaintance across the floor and waved; the acquaintance waved back but as Leslie turned he saw the senior packer waving too. The acquaintance did not remember him, and is now the 'Quartered drawn and hung' subject of Leslie's entry.

Personally, I found his work too dark; literally, not emotionally. Maybe it was the lighting, but it was almost impossible to make out the faint paintwork on the black velvet. Too, too subtle. What I could see was wonderful, but it was a struggle.

My favourite work? Mmmm, that is so difficult to decide - perhaps Rober Boreham's small painting "Dad what a smile" - in part because it is small, but also because of the joy and sunshine it radiates. So much of the rest is sooo serious, sombre, angst-ridden or portentous (not pretentious, although I think there is some of that there too!)

Ducklings and dragons

2008-11-01T10:03:00.006+11:00

Last night, as we sat on the jetty enjoying a cool sundowner after a very, very hot day I spotted 4 ducklings making their way down a neighbours slipway towards the water. Mother and father duck were supervising. One by one the ducklings slipped over the edge of the slip, and sat on the water. Mother and father duck watched from the nearby lawn, then flew the last few feet to join their flock.

None of them seemed to notice the water dragon, lying flat on the nearby jetty. It didn't seem to notice them. But I wonder how many ducklings there will be tonight?

In the picture above you can just see the ducklings in the top right, and the dragon in the bottom left corner.

The sunset colours were spectacular last night: maybe it was the effect of the heat, maybe the moisture in the air. It was a relief when the cool southerly change came through at about 8 o'clock, even though it then became too windy to sit outside for dinner.

Poor eating experience

2008-10-31T10:56:00.003+11:00

We went out for dinner in Newcastle on Wednesday. I may have had my first taste of Global Financial Crisis expressed locally. Or maybe it was just a very off night in one of our regular venues. Not one of the best of Darby Street's eating houses, but usually pleasant enough, fast enough (if we're on our way to a show or concert) and not too expensive.

It was unusually quiet at 7.15 when we rocked up - just a another two or three tables well into their meals. Initially I thought maybe the weather had kept people at home, although other restaurants in the street had customers. But what should have really alerted us to a potential problem was the lack of table settings. Bare tables. No cutlery, no condiments, nothing. Literally bare boards - rough and unpolished. I couldn't remember them looking so bare before. But we were with other people, and we had already walked up and down the street looking for an acceptable venue and we were talking, and not really noticing and then sitting down and at that point it is hard to say "uh oh, this doesn't feel right."

Second pause was when they couldn't do one of the dishes on the menu: they were waiting on a delivery. Our friend asked for an alternative and third pause was when the waitress said "Oh I think there's one of those left". Fourth pause came when they didn't have the wine we wanted. The food arrived, it was adequate, no more nor less than usual.

We chatted away, having a pleasant evening, once we got them to turn the music down so that we could hear each other. What is it about so many restaurants that they have to play loud percussive music? The d-d-d-d-d beat makes it impossible to relax, and those of us over thirty are already beginning the journey into the world of the aurally challenged - we don't need additional noise over which to strain our ears and raise our voices. I think the staff choose the music for their benefit, not their customers.

One of our dinner companions, when we had been perusing the street and making our choice of eatery, always read the dessert options first. And when we came into this restaurant, she had looked at the menu, seen the dessert listing and said "oh they all sound good". So after we'd finished our mains I asked the waitress for the dessert menu. She went off to get them. Our friend said "Actually I don't want any dessert," which was just as well because the waitress came back and told us there were no desserts available: nothing had been delivered.

Maybe there's a few bills not been paid somewhere?

We had coffees and when we went, left no tip.

I'm not in any hurry to go back to this particular restaurant, but I wonder if it will still be operating when I next visit Darby Street?

Salad Patch

2008-10-27T11:26:00.004+11:00

After a concentrated effort yesterday there's now three - no four - types of lettuces, 3 types of capsicum, oodles of sweet basil, some fresh coriander and a few strawberry plants all planted up in pots and the vegie patch. Now it's just a matter of waiting to see which ones take, which ones survive the snail onslaught, and which ones survive my erratic watering regime. Most of the plantlings look pretty good this morning: a few of the baby rocket are not at all happy in their new bed, but there were so many of them that I think I'll have enough to eat until mid-summer.

There's still a bit of space in the vegie patch so I shall consider what else to plant. The garden centre was offering beetroot which didn't inspire me - I like beetroot but it is so messy to handle - all that red bleed.

I think I'll try some aubergines (eggplant). Then I can be self-sufficient in ratatouille for a few weeks!

Was alerted just now by the dogs barking - their distinctive "There's something really interesting in the garden" bark - usually a snake or a lizard. This time it was a blue tongue lizard - furtunately it was on the other side of the fence else Bozo would have tried to play with it. And his idea of play involves biting and eating so that is not good news for any accidental playmate. Penny, my other cavalier, will also bark at the wildlife, but she doesn't try to get physical with them.

Here's the lizard, safe under the neighbours steps.

Sunshine

2008-10-24T09:04:00.002+11:00

Hurray! The sun is shining and the sky is blue. Shame I have so much work to do.....but there will be time to get a few seeds and seedlings planted out into the veggie bed.

I brought some cuttings and seeds back from Boyne Island - some from plants I gave to my friends up there before I moved down here. I wonder how they will take to the change of climate. I've now got another zygo-cactus (Christmas cactus) and Walking Iris potted up, and seeds from Desert Rose, Pregnant Onion (yes, pregnant onion) and a new lily to plant. I may become a gardener yet.

Found a few more snails out and about on the terrace last night, it's no wonder my other seedlings haven't thrived (sigh).

Rainbow and spiders

2008-10-23T11:19:00.010+11:00

Between yesterday's showers there was a lovely rainbow over the creek.

The grey weather continues today, although I did manage a good long walk in the chilly windy sunshine at Rathmines this morning before the clouds returned. Then home to clear the leaves out of the pool, the pool filter, the pool's creepy-crawly, and the pool's gutters. There was a small spider spreadeagled on the pool surface, her back covered in her babies, so I swept her out gently and deposited her in the garden. I've just done a quick bit of checking on the 'net, and she was probably a Garden Wolf Spider (Lycosa godeffroyi ) Check out the Australian Museum Online . It's not the first time that I've found these in the pool, although I haven't seen one with spiderlings before.

I once found a funnelweb. It was curled up on the bottom of the pool, apparently dead. I put it in a container and a little while later noticed it moving. I've heard that funnelwebs can survive a little while underwater and this one obviously had! I must confess I didn't let that spider live.

Tropical meanderings and dog walking

2008-10-22T08:41:00.006+11:00

Well I'm back from my little tropical sojourn. Back from 27 degrees to 17. Back from blue skies and sunshine to cloud and rain. Approaching Newcastle on Monday night the plane skirted thunderstorms. It is strange and beautiful and slightly unnerving to be looking down to lightening flashes.

Going back to old haunts is a good opportunity to re-appraise both the old and the new. I was surprised to notice the variety of architecture on Boyne Island - there are some really interesting properties there. There are also some uninteresting ones, too many of the modern Australian suburban "McMansion" style of "pile 'em high, fill the block, no verandahs, rely on air-con for cooling" type of housing. So horribly unsuitable for those subtropical conditions.

One of the things I had really enjoyed during my time living on Boyne and got to appreciate again on this visit was the dog-friendly beach. Great stretches of off-leash dog walking areas. Miles and miles of it. There are so few easily accessible areas around here where I can walk my dogs off-leash, where they can have a really good run and romp and we all get good exercise. I do use the waterfront reserve here at Dora Creek, a lovely walk, and also the beatiful park at Rathmines. Myuna Bay is another good place, so long as one avoids the boggy bits where the swamp is forever draining across the path. But all of these are on-leash areas. The local off-leash (but only at certain times) space is a pretty scrappy bit of a ground - not at all inviting, and it certainly doesn't encourage me to get out and stretch my legs in its dust.

With so many dogs and dog owners in this community there really should be more spaces for us to walk both on and off-leash. More paths, more parks. We'd all be healthier.

Airports

2008-10-18T12:00:00.004+11:00

I love the idea of travel. I love the idea of new places, new cultures, new foods.

I hate the practicalities of travel.

I'm on my way to Gladstone for the weekend. Why Gladstone, you may ask - well, it's a friends birthday. 'Nuff said.

Now one of the good thinks about living in or near a regional centre, as opposed to a capital is the regional airport. Small, friendly, manageable. Even if they don't have the range of flights in and out to all the places you might want to go, at all the times you might want to travel. Even if getting to them means you have to drive because there are no trains and few buses. Parking is not usually a problem, nor as expensive as a major airport.

I think all airports should be about the same size as Newcastle, Gladstone, or at a push, Brisbane. Any bigger and they are getting too big, too unwieldy, too crowded and less friendly.

Birds and fern

2008-10-16T11:38:00.002+11:00

Although it is a beautiful day a sad note comes in the form of a lorikeet, found lying on the road this morning. Rather than leave it there to be run over my friend picked it up and brought it here. It has no obvious injury (not that I am an expert) and may just be stunned, so I have put it out of the way of dogs and cat and will see how it goes.

I have seen a surprising number of dead birds on the roads recently - all different sorts. Most surprising was a dead kookaburra. I think I saw more dead birds last month that I have done in the previous year - mostly on the road between here and Toronto. Birds are usually so good at getting out of the way, but I guess if they are swooping across low after insects they just get flattened along with the bug they are chasing. I was told recently that one reason for keeping the grass cut low by the road side is to minimise bird kill - I always thought it was to minimise fire risk from those smokers who toss their lit butts out the window.

My tree fern is uncurling yet another leaf today - I love the way they look when they are like this - all delicate and tender like a baby.

UPDATE: The lorikeet, after about an hour of not doing very much and looking somewhat subdued and pathetic, stood up properly inside the box where I had placed it for safe keeping, hopped up to the edge, sat there for a few moments, looked at me with his red-violet eye and then flew off.

Climate Change

2008-10-15T17:37:00.004+11:00

A few weeks ago I went to a Climate Change workshop run by a local Community group (The Dora Creek Catchment Group) and our local council (Lake Macquarie City Council). All local residents were invited and I suppose about 50-80 people came. We were seated in groups according to our streets and after some interesting presentations from environmental scientists and local council officers were asked to think specifically about how we might be affected.

One of the more interesting little snippets was that if the sea level (and thus the Lake) rises by 91 cm by 2100 (council's current working hypothesis) then the tidal range on the Western side of Lake Macquarie could increase from it's current 9-10 cm to closer to 1m (or greater), because the channel from the Lake to the sea would become so much wider and the volume of water able to move in and out would increase. That's a 1m tidal range on top of nearly 1m rise in Lake height.

My own jetty would be under water most of the time, and my garden - and house - would be flooded more often that once every 30 years. And while that would be a devastating effect for me personally, it's really small beer compared to the greater effects on the wider community. Both the built environment of roads and bridges and treatment works and civic buildings, and the natural environment of wetlands and watercourses will be affected. How are governments and communities going to plan for and cope with such massive changes?

The Dora Creek workshop was too brief to let us go into depth on the issues, our table was only just beginning to identify and think about the practical consequences of Climate Change for out street. But co-incidentally ("randomly selected" according to the invitiation), I've also been asked to take part in another workshop, the "Central Coast Climate Consensus Workshops". This appears to be organised by both state and local government groups, and is a bit more substantial than the Dora Creek event, taking place over 3 days. I'm looking forward to it.

Sticking with my own parochial concerns for a moment, I wonder who is going to want to buy a place where they might get wet feet? Coupling this with the current downturn in the housing market makes me wonder whether I'll ever get my money back on this place. Not that I am in any hurry to leave, I'd just like be confident that I would be able to afford to move somewhere else if I need to.

And just so you can see that this is not purely fatalistic fantasy, here's a couple of pictures - one taken last year after the June 07 floods, and one this afternoon.

Snail escape

2008-10-15T15:27:00.012+11:00

Went out with a torch last night and found a whole army of snails marching up the path towards my new seedlings. No wonder the blue tongue lizards are so active and large just now: there's plenty of food for them. I think they eat snails. Anyway, the snails were dispatched to snail heaven, and the seedlings are doing just fine!

I am delighted by the number of different blossoms in and around my garden: not many natives, I realise, but that may change.

I am particularly pleased with the pansies, since I planted them myself. Now that may not seem like much to you, but until 18 months ago I did not do gardening. I've always liked having fresh herbs to hand, but my attempts at growing them have been pretty half-hearted. But now I'm trying to grow things a little more seriously. There is even a bare patch of garden waiting to be planted with lettuces and vegetables - including the zuchini seedlings rescued from the snails. I have to confess that I wouldn't have got even this far on my own - I have had a lot of help. A lot.

So why now? Well, partly because this is a new home, my home, and there is a little bit of a garden here but not so much that I feel overwhelmed by it, and partly because I like the idea of having fresh produce, and partly because it costs so much to buy it from the supermarket or greengrocer. Although I suspect that this final point, except for the herbs, is not a major one because I can only grow what is seasonal, and when I can grow it, so can the commercial growers, and a lot more cheaply than me. So let's say that I like the idea of fresh and homegrown produce and leave it at that.

Over the next couple of days, the veggie patch might get its first plantings!

A bit of rain

2008-10-14T10:49:00.004+11:00

Today is grey and damp but it is still beautiful looking out over the creek. A minor has stopped by hoping for a bit of a feed. Earlier, as the rain started, the air was full of the sounds of bird calls: lorikeets, magpies and currawongs the most familiar, but lots of other small sounds and chirrups and twitterings up and down the creek banks. On other days I have heard sulphur crested cockatoos' harsh "aarcghkk aarcghkk" and masked plovers who always sound as if they are in fright with their quick little shrieks.

Beginnings

2008-10-13T23:28:00.002+11:00

Dora Creek runs into Lake Macquarie on the east coast of Australia. I live about 2 km upstream, on the bend past the railway bridge. On a quiet night I can hear the coal trains rattling across that bridge. On a cool and quiet morning, like yesterday, the mist rising off the water blocks the view across the creek so that we appear to be floating in white space, and the train engines sound muffled through the ether.

Most morning though, there's no mist, just a real still quiet surface reflecting the trees growing the other side, a reflection so clear and still you think you can see individual leaves. Sooner or later - sometimes sooner, sometimes later - the morning breeze kicks in, the water ruffles and the images fracture and disappear.