Walks

A turquoise swell, the Southern Ocean swinging around the point just part Seal Rock, into Fisherman's Bay, the beach, more orange lichen covered granite rocks.

The dog and I still, watch, she waiting for my next move. We've walked up from Horseshoe Bay in Port Elliot, along the beach, up ther rocks, the winding path down to Crockery Bay, then up the coastal way, the wind easy, light just right, the sea ambitious, swollen with tide.

Three surfers slide into the waves on their boards, past the lone seal, head out a few hundred meters to Frenchman's Rock where the waves swell and break long. They chat as they start off in the cold waters, joking about how warm it is. I'm annoyed, wanting the place to myself. Soon another walker appears with two dogs.

I move off, past them, stop again to watch the waves crash against more rocks, the spume high and proud.

The dog runs ahead, happier to be returning to the beach. I hear her barking with joy as she races along the shoreline.

I follow enjoying the lunge of the sea, the swish of its return, the roll of the stones and shells in the sudden surf, smile as the dog runs back up to me. I go to pat her, but she's too excited, runs off again.

She's getting old. I treasure these moments







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Sea Days

This morning the 'sea breeze' app on my IPad said the wind was NNW and the day 'calm'. No breeze to speak of. We can see the ocean from here, not a huge arc of it but enough to please the heart. Enough too, to witness the changing colours, the different swells and moods of the sea.

When there's a line of breakers close to Granite island then the surf will be up further south at Middleton and Chiton Rocks off Port Elliot.

Sometimes the colour of the sea is a dulled white; at others, deep blue. Some days, rainy days, there's no horizon. Sea and sky merge.

But if it was calm outside is was action inside. Our twenty month old grandson, this old wise very young fellow,, loves games. And so we chased each around the sitting room, me shuffling slowly but noisily, matching his small steps, our slippers chatty with the floorboards, our movements interrputed only by a break for early lunch, the invention of new and crazier games. He picks up on my change of game instantly, knows what's going on. So our morning became one of flow, laughter, the humbling, ennobling expression of presence.

I'm still humming.


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Sunday Noises

Earlier in the day - a warm sunny morning, hint of a cool breeze - I was listening to the sound of sparrows and blackbirds and honey eaters in the garden. They were all busy with their conversations, their scratching around the soil, flicking up bits and pieces that will annoy my wife when she returns from Adelaide.Look at the mess they made, she'll say, and grab the broom.

As I contemplate circumventing her future dismay by getting the broom myself and sweeping, the neighbour starts up his lawnmower, and then the trimmer. The buzzing sounds joins in with the drone and ratlle of his immortal washing machine, parked at the back end of his house, nearest our side. It's there, unprotected, in rain and shine, yet still works - and well, judging by the brilliance of the white overalls, the vivid brightness of the orange sweater and beanie...........

Ah, now the trimmer again. Oops, that reminds me: time to exercise.









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Chilly Nights

Chilly nights. We have the wood heater going. The addition of another room last year has meant the house doesn't quite heat up the way it once did. Those days we'd have to open the door or window to let in cooler air! It's nice to be so cosy.

What makes for comfort?



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The GFC

We keep hearing here that the GFC is over, but really, it seems to me it's still here. One of the areas it's showing up is in journals. A number are putting out requests for donations on top of subscriptions.

Journals, magazines, online publications, all keep writing alive- as well as the many, many blogs.
And its great diversity.

Perhaps it is one of those times, like the Depression in the 1930's, of enforcing a re-evaluation of what's most important in our lives.








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Being Busy

Being busy these days. It's so easy.

Some days it's overwhelming; email, texts, blogs, social networking; catching up.

But like the slow food campaigns, today I'm going slow, and enjoying that; the sun slants in, the dog's in her basket near my feet, my wife's preparing another wedding. That makes for a good day. 








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Drop in days

A quiet walk along the beach just past the yacht club at Victor Harbor. A cool day, just right, enough sun to feel at ease, the sounds of the waves loud. No wonder we hear the sea at night from where we are.
The Hindmarsh river flowing at last out to sea, rippling, calling sand to drop in to the flow.

Drop in days.






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