I’ve just spent a week in a favourite place of mine, the Gariwerd. This is the Aboriginal name for the mountain ranges also named the Grampians National Park in Western Victoria. I’ve been fortunate enough to call this place my second home ever since I can remember and have experienced multiple treasures of the Australian bushland throughout my visits. In the last week alone I have seen countless Kangaroos, Lizards and Sulphur-Crested Cockatoos whilst also spotting a rare Powerful Owl and its mate on a hike up the Chautauqua Peak. These owls are AMAZING. They grow to about 60cm and can catch and eat up an adult possum (not a trivial task). The one I found was sitting at head level and wasn’t phased in the slightest with our staring and pointing. After searching for the partner we found it high up in a nearby tree feasting on one of the big cockatoos I mentioned previously. Uggh. But amazing.
So I’m feeling quite refreshed and ready to take on this new year. I’m excited about 2008 and how it will pan out. Hope is a good thing.
I also had the time and headspace to do a little sketching in my brand-spanking-new sketchbook (a well thought out Chrissy present) in this holiday time and will probably post a couple of them over the next few days. This one is a view I saw a lot of as I rested on the porch of the house we stay at when visiting.
A happy and hopeful new year to you blogger friends.
Filed under: stuff
Merry Christmas to my blogging friends on this fine day. I know my posting hasn’t really been a reality the past couple of months, but writing on this page has played a big role in my thinking and being this year. So a big fat thanks to those of you who have been a part of that. I love each of your contributions very much. Blessings to my blogging pals, anna xx
ps – this is my dog billy. i took this shot a couple of years back and it still makes me laugh 
I live on a little mountain. The terrain surrounding my house is quite steep and I enjoy walking down and up its slopes every once in a while. Because my place sits on the crest of the mountain I can wander over either side. The face travailing down from my place offers a dry expanse of gums and low-lying scrub. I frequent this route more regularly than the other. At certain times of the year the air teams with butterflies feeding from the nectar of the mountain. The earth on this side is home to echidnas that scoop up the earth in search of ant mounds. The trees here sometimes sound like they’re screaming out as their trunks come together and come apart. It is a land with a history.
On the opposite side the bush takes on a smoother decline and the mountain rain is preserved from the harsh sun by a deeper, denser rainforest habitat where tree ferns and mosses play around the Olinda Creek. I enjoy visiting this side, particularly in the wet when the forest breathes a freshness, its fragrant offering to this carbon polluted atmosphere.
There’s a face up on my mountain that has some very nice viewing spots. One of these areas is a commercialised viewing place that has been recently updated to include a multi-million dollar restaurant/conference/reception building, landscaped gardens and a nice big fat gate with tolls for parking. As you can probably guess, that spot’s pretty popular with the locals. A little up the road one can find the more natural lookout, known locally as The Rocks and renowned by many young Melbournites for its late night romanticism and dazzling city light scenery. I got up to this spot early in the morning last week to think and bring things before God. Questions. Things that sat deep on my heart. Questions.
It’s good to be here. Sometimes I need to be woken up to the rich earthy palate of colours and the graceful gum trees. Woken up from a state of introspective dwelling. I need to be here more often.
Filed under: stuff
Errrrr. Last time I posted I wrote that I’d be frequenting the posting pages a little more regularly. So much for that. Oh well. Perhaps this photo compostion will say a little more than my often misleading words.
One more week to go and I’ll be entering a new phase of anna-existence. The type that doesn’t involve hitting the rails lines into town, the one that doesn’t involve a brisk walk up the steep parliament station escalators, the one that doesn’t include the dear smiling face of my friend that sells me the Big Issue for $4 a bargain-made pop. Goodbye to my long-awaited and very pleasant early morning coffee and the wet roads and the thinking time.
Seasons are good.
My time and inclination for writing has slowed down to something of a trickle over the past month. A busy schedule is the main culprit. When a little time becomes available in between the planning, the early rises, the later nights and the changing of flat, nail-embedded, tyres (that one was Sunday’s adventure) I attempt to enjoy it. In these little moments, rather than write I tend to have opted for having a lie down to listen to a few tunes on the old cd player, for soaking in the new spring sun and for picking up the charcoal and having a bit of a draw. This last one is probably because my beloved camera is broken and in much need of a good service. How I miss picking up my new packet of prints and perusing the pictorial contents… it’s always been one of those sweet surprises.
I’ve also found I’m over willing to take up opportunities to get out of the house and to escape the turbulence of full time teaching (as student teacher). These flighty diversions seem to regularly fall on Saturday’s nights and seeing as I work every Saturday night I’m finding I’m getting to bed later and later as the weeks roll by. Probably not ‘late’ for some of you night owls out there, but this bird is generally a true dawn chorus hatchling. The thing is I’m still waking up ultra early because my body clock has adjusted to the 5:30am starts with school. The sense-driven vegetarian in me is saying I need to up the sleep or get some iron into the veins. In the past lack of sleep has quickly escalated my consciousness into zombie status throughout the waking hours. Despite this reasoning my immune system has been holding up unexpectedly well. My mind seems to be thriving on the learning occurring in the classroom and I’m really not feeling the slightest bit lethargic. I’ve just under two weeks left and here’s to hoping that it all continues in this fashion.
The new season’s wind has come bringing with it a surge of childhood smells and feelings to recollect. It’s almost as though summer has pre-empted spring’s arrival, eluding the time usually set aside for bulbs, rain and fresh growth. We’ve gone from winter chills to summer thrills in a matter of days. Whether it will last or not is another thing. Anyhow, this beautiful change occurred over the weekend, allowing much time for thinking and drawing while soaking in the warm sunshine, something I have deeply missed throughout the icy months. I have a favourite spot outside my bedroom on the roofing where I set my seat and bask in the all-encompassing warmth. It’s just too good to resist – even if the work looms like a cloud over my metaphorical skies.
So while I was sitting and drifting in and out of attention to the cares of the world I began to think about a longing I sometimes get. It’s this unfathomable thirst that takes over. It’s not just a head thing, it’s almost like I can feel it in each and every muscle, right to the tips of my fingers, deep in my shoulders. Nevertheless, a drink won’t suffice. It’s much deeper than this. I yearn for total submersion. To have water surround me, to be in me, through me. It’s in my feet too – they ache to swim and push the water that holds them. I think it’s usually when I’m really thirsty that it comes over my being. Maybe it’s the mermaid blood in me. I wouldn’t mind living by the river so I could just swim whenever it beckoned.
I am wildly, absurdly, dangerously busy but not really acting like it. I find when the pressure is turned on and the deadlines come in big fat waves I tend to go into a safe and happy place called Daydream Land. I don’t really have the time to sit here and blog, but what the hey, I’m going to do some other mind-numbing and nonsensical time-filler anyway, so why not make it a bit of a record of what a fool I am in the midst of demands. Who knows, maybe, just maybe, I might learn something from it all…
So here’s a list of some of my Daydream Land activities:
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Stopping by each op-shop I pass, insisting on taking myself in, and finding something to spend the coins on that keep falling out of my broken wallet on. I found an awesome orange beanie for $2 on Monday. Also found a nice new headscarf, and a summer skirt. Buying stuff always makes me feel just a little bit better
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Eat a truck-load of pistachios. Mmm. Their irresistible salty goodness is too good to be taste-bud-true. Oh yeah, busy little study sessions also require a plentiful supply of green tea.
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Play with the crazy idea of having my own little place to live in and to decorate and to invite peoples over and have a happy dog to greet the peoples.
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Write letters to people I’ve been way to busy to write to before I was actually truly busy.
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Play Mr.Squiggle on the back of articles I’m meant to be reading. And sketch all my thoughts away.
There’s plenty more Daydream Land things to do. It’s also very good for song writing and bird feeding. Anyway fellow bloggers, I’m off to try a little more of the real study stuff. Tchuss.
Filed under: stuff
I haven’t been able to get online for last couple of days because of this mega storm that hit the mountain. It was wild. I’ve never ever seen such force behind the wind up here. It all began when I went to collect my new car on Wednesday eve. It was about 5pm when I picked him up and the rain was hitting hard. The driving rain thoroughly soaked my clothes to the inner layers after running the short distance from my old china blue box car to the new vehicle. I signed all the necessary paper work then jumped into my newly acquired possession. I then proceeded to drive up and along the winding road that scales the mountain. I was almost blissfully unaware of the rain, that hadn’t stopped violently thrashing out at the surrounding landscape since 1am the previous morning, which continued to fall hard and fast. I thought I was doing pretty well and was oh-so-grateful for the new tyres (considering my old car had slid out from underneath me the previous week with a bit of wet asphalt underneath minimum tread) then, about 2km from home the fun began.
My eyes caught a glimpse of the flashing emergency vehicle’s lights before I rounded the bend to see the fallen eucalypt that had attracted its presence. One giant of the mountain laid to rest to be carved up and burnt in the willing wood scavengers’ log fires. I deviated from the main drag and took one of the side roads that would eventually take me back to the route home. As I ventured further along I noticed that my path was thick with debris from the neighbouring trees – a fresh deep green and earthy brown refuse – evidence of angry megafauna wombats barging through and leaving a trail of destruction. A couple of bends on, where much of the red earth had crumbled down onto the road, unable to hold the weight of water being absorbed, there were more flashing yellow lights. I took a left and once again found myself driving very slowly over branches and bark and ripped up gum leaves. There was a bit of a makeshift road block stopping me from taking Ridge Rd down to my place, but the sign was facing the other side of the road so I assumed that it was a detour for the mess I’d just avoided, and I drove my way around the unmanned block. Hmmm. Yeah well that block was actually for me, not the other cars and I found myself face to face with another unhappy trunk who had surrendered to the downpour. By this point I was unsure if getting home was a possibility and began to think where I could park my car with minimum risk of a tree falling on me. But I backtracked and finally found another way through to the road home.
A few hundred metres from my home is a roundabout. As I approached this I was comforted by the belief that I would soon be able to snuggle up with a warm cup of tea and my dog Billy and be free of this stormy mess. These hopes were soon to dissipate with the presence of three more sets of emergency vehicles, flashing swords of yellow light cutting through the chilled and rain driven night. I drove up to one of the emergency workers and asked if I could get through to my road. Not a possibility. Three huge pines had fallen over the foot of my terrace wrenching out all available electric wires. I was advised to park at the lookout carpark, where there are no overhead trees, and attempt to find an alternative way up to my place. After all this (it’s come to my attention that this post has gone on far too long and am impressed if you’re still reading) I parked my car and braved the horizontal rain and hardcore winds and was directed by authorities to tentatively make my way over the fallen electric lines sitting over a chicken wire fence in pools of mud. I was a little unsure about this bit. In the First Aid course I took earlier in the year I was warned to keep a distance of at least 10metres between me and the power lines – especially in the wet – but I figured they must know what they’re doing.
It was sweet to be home after all that. And unbelievably we still had power for about and hour until it went off for a couple of days. But I do like candlelight and the enforced rest from technology was actually a little mini-retreat. I managed to take a couple of photos before the camera battery ran out.
So the long anticipated rain, much needed by the farmers has come, and damn its come with a bang. Amazon jungle monsoon torrents style. Hats off to the SES and CFA crew who volunteered out there on Weds night.
Candle reading.
The bottom of my road.
