December 28, 2010
Yesterday was for rest. Today I can’t think, only do – a good thing. Today I wiped down much of the house, following the discovery on Boxing Day of a flea infestation which we subsequently ‘bombed’. This is fast becoming the era of the bug. I haven’t put grasshopper-proof shade-cloth over the car grill yet but the pressure is on.
I remember an Easter Sunday when we discovered lice in 4 out of 5 family members’ hair. Not a chemist open. Only an experienced mum and hairdresser over the back fence who graciously cut off most of my hair – an early nineties acid perm. We were staying with friends at the time because all of our belongings had gone to our new home town in a truck.
Christmas is fraught with traps, and that thing called hope. I like the funny moments, when no-one is thinking too much. The quiet after lunch is good too.
December 21, 2010
What a great Spring we’ve had – are still having despite it being Christmas on Saturday.
When the drought finally broke I was compelled to paint the sky, from whence water comes, and goes on, and on. My studio has windows all along its western wall. They’re tinted because it gets so hot in summer. The view is vast and dramatic on a cloudy day, and with the windows open the clear light and all kinds of weather flow into the room.
Accompanied by this free and constant view I’ve begun to paint what I remember of visual experiences beyond my studio. One such memory is of the evening sky, driving home around the edge of Lake Hume. Orange and purple clouds in a rich blue space.
December 7, 2010
When my children were small and the bills were big, I never resented paying them, even if it had to be by installment. I was grateful for the modern conveniences – still am. I’m grateful to have the money to pay for them.
The telephone was my lifeline to the world – 2 voices across the distance.
Hot water on tap the greatest luxury every morning.
Warmth in the house and food in my belly have saved me from despair.
We’re spoiled for choice with ways to communicate really. So when the contact with someone diminishes it can be a surprise and sometimes it hurts. But we’re spoiled for choice in so many ways it’s a natural consequence that some connections will fall away. The beauty of it is, it’s easy to pick up the frayed end and repair any damage and cross that distance again.
Our dog Jordi is a social boy. He loves to have a chat in the morning. I’ve noticed that his vocabulary has increased heaps over time. Just like a child, he imitates my sounds and responds appropriately to inflections and body language and groups of words.
Sometimes my days are so full that our conversations are short and more or less one-sided before I dash off into the world. And then I remember what I miss. It takes time to renew that ease between us again.