Introducing ...

Over the last five years a pair of tawny frogmouths have lived and bred around our home, giving much pleasure by their continuing to stay close by.

 

One year I feared one of the pair had died as one was on its lonesome for several weeks, then a mate joined, and the baby rearing started, though only one chick hatched that first year. 

 

Last year the first laying of an egg [or was it two; the nest perched high in the old gum tree was too distant to check out] was disastrous.  The egg did not hatch.  The bird laid another with the result that Bambino came into this world.  [I have written about Bambino previously] 

 

On 3rd September this year 'Eggsitter' had made a flimsy nest and began the task of sitting and keeping the egg warm.  Not being completely sure of how long the sitting was it was with interest that I checked that nest daily;  Eggsitter did not mind, peering down from the safety of the high branch at me staring upwards.  To show my interest, I ran a short conversation each day ... just to prove I was a friend, not a foe.

 

Five weeks later on 10th October a tiny ball of white fluff peeped out from beneath Eggsitter's wing.  Baby birds need a name!  Not difficult!  What better than Ten10 for a chick hatching on 10th day of the 10th month. 

 

For some reason I didn't check the following two days, but on the third day another ball of white fluff emerged from hiding under Eggsitter's warm wing.  These little birds are only white for the first few days of their lives; as they grow the colours similar to the parents takes the place of the white feathers, yet to this day I have not noticed any tiny white feathers on the ground.

 

With one bird having a name, it would be churlish to allow this one to grow up nameless.  Mmmm .... suddenly a name sprung to mind ... 2winny.  Both birds were named, and continued to grow and grow, until they fledged on 30th October.

 

Each day the parents move the chicks around seeking shelter from the unseasonable rain we are having, but they are never far from the house.

 

Earlier was I hung out a little washing, hoping to beat the occasional showers, I heard a tawny frog mouth 'humming' and looked up.  There directly above the clothes-line the frogmouth family looked down at me.  A camera opportunity!!

 

Cars everywhere

Last weekend, which I know is almost a week ago, we travelled north to a Shine 'n Show exhibition.

This year the event was held at Maitland Park, a sloping grassy area with side shows set up at one end ... to keep children occupied I guess; a speaker system that must have been able to be heard for miles so loud was the music.  Perhaps my elderly ears are more sensitive to loud music [?? noise?] but I do wonder how younger ears will fare in 40 or 50 years.

There were Mustangs, vehicles with motors almost larger than the body, and cars that we remembered from our younger days, and cars that were polished until reflections were easily visible.

The day was hot, reaching the low 30's, which at this time of year is hot, though I must add the following day the temperature reached 38 degrees, dropping the following day to a high of 23.  I did seek shelter at one stage as Significant Other chatted to owners of these 'dream vehicles'.  The palm tree where I sought shade was a bad choice, as it wasn't for a few minutes before I noted a column of ants parading across the grass and climbing up the trunk.  I moved quickly!

I think my favourite was an elderly Holden towing a caravan of the same vintage.  Oh how caravans have expanded over the decades! 

Another fascinating vehicle was a decorated hearse.  The owner informed us that today people are demanding something different for their final journey.  I informed him his vehicle will not be carrying me on my last journey! 

In the back he had an open coffin, which seemed very narrow, in which 'rested' a skeleton, and along the top edge were two rats.  Very off putting! 

I probably sound a prude now, but in my mind it was disrespectful.

There were a few motor bikes;

and some racing machines; a ferris wheel reached for the sun, and many bare arms and shoulders turned lobster red.

Trip north

August has been productive in my many crafting facets ... not so productive in Blogging.

Earlier in August we headed north for a day trip to Kalbarri, which is about 200kms away ... a day trip that began early [for me]. 

After passing through Geraldton we headed north, with the Atlantic Ocean shining blue in the sunlight, on the left, to Northampton where we left the main highway to detour via Horrocks, a small fishing village that is quickly becoming a haven for city folks at the weekends.  We stopped for a coffee ... it was a while since breakfast ... and a muffin, munching and sipping whilst leaning over the fence that may have been built expressly to balance a coffee cup on.

But the day doesn't stand still while we sit and watch, so it was ever onward.  Luckily what appeared to be a new road, albeit not sealed and still rather unformed in places, though many of those potholes could be blamed on recent rain, gave us a shortcut to Port Gregory, another seaside village. 

Beyond the reef that enclosed a peaceful harbour we could see a fishing boat busily moving along the breakers.  Many smaller fishing craft are towed to the water's edge.

Hutt Lagoon, a pink lake, as one  entered Port Gregory is spectacular.  Reflections of clouds and the hills gave a sense of tranquility. 

Further north we detoured along a small road to the coast [again], discovering another gem.  Pancake type rocks with signs warning of danger leaned precariously over the ocean.  One could easily imagine storm surges cutting into the overhang even more.  But it was gloriously spectacular!  There was a narrow track down the steep cliff to a sheltered hollow where a fisherman was throwing the line.

But ... the road called again.  Soon we arrived in Kalbarri, which is a delicious holiday resort town with boats of several types for hire.  The camping ground had palm trees growing amongst the caravans ... this place was not a one-night stop-off!  Several days to unwind would be the order of the day for the Grey Nomads [those senior citizens who in their new [looking] 4 x wheel drive vehicles and towing caravans that any traveler of yesteryear would be more than proud. 

We came home 'the other way', traveling through bush clad countryside before the land opened up to cropping country.  A few kilometers out of Kalbarri we had to slow our journey momentarily, as six or seven emus leisurely crossed the road in front of us.  In my excitement I forgot to take a photo!

It was a weary couple who returned home after a Saturday drive north.

A Sign of Spring?

Today is sunny with cloudy periods, warmer outside than indoors, but still a day when a few layers of clothing are essential.

When walking on the grass a tiny movement caught my eye.  Quietly I moved closer, and there amongst the long grass crept a tiny blue-tongue lizard; quite the tiniest blue-tongue I have seen!  [some folk call these lizards 'bob-tail lizards'.  These lizards hibernate during winter, and in all honesty I was surprised to see one out and about today ... I didn't consider it warm enough.  This baby looking as though it is a new arrival this spring had parents that frequented our place in the summer, often coming inside for an exploratory daily excursion.  Now we have an offspring! 

Of course this was a momentous camera opportunity; in fact I took two photos.  One just after I had carefully and as quietly as possible spooned some fruit nearby [blue-tongue lizards love strawberries, but sadly I have none on hand; fruit salad was the next best!] 

Within ten minutes two pieces had disappeared. 

You can tell just how tiny this lizard is against the pieces of peach and pear.  It will grow quickly!

Where? Why?

Today the newspaper published some results from what must have been a questionaire to school pupils.  The question?  Where is your favourite capital city?  Five comments were published; two opted for Paris, one for Washington, one for Honolulu [though I was under the impression Honolulu was in Hawaii, and therefore part of the USA ... as is Washington], and one for Vienna.  All had differing reasons for their choice. Interesting results!

After reading the article I set myself the same question.  I am still thinking!  If I became suddenly rich and had a choice of what capital city to visit the time taken to resolve the question might be days, as at this particular moment I cannot decide.  Indeed, I am not certain I would even choose a city, though that would then void the question.

Perhaps London to see the Queen?  Ah, I have seen the Queen twice, and both times in New Zealand.  You see the Queen travels a lot, and no doubt has visited most capital cities in the world.

Vienna holds a certain charm.  Memories of the Vienna Boys' Choir singing or perhaps a freshly baked Vienna load of my childhood can evoke positive vibes. 

Washington?  Not particularly interested ... but if I could visit a place that was not a city, then Martha's Vineyard would figure highly.  Why?  I have read several books set on that island and each time have found it extremely easy to transport myself into the story.  Perhaps I lived there in another life?  Certainly tales of the eastern seaboard of the USA have that same evocative hold. 

Paris?  Mmmm, doesn't hold that much appeal.  Rome?  I think I would prefer Venice.

So you see that after careful consideration I cannot make up my mind.  Now perhaps that is because I am a woman, or perhaps it is because the choice is just too difficult.

Where would you choose?  And why?

P.S.  I actually prefer a deserted beach with the wind whistling across the sand and the waves crashing against the rocks!

Monday is wash day

My Mum did the family wash on a Monday, and I followed in her footsteps.  Beds are stripped, sheets changed, and all manner of unlikely objects scooped up and deposited in the wash ... such as socks, socks and more socks.

In this part of Australia it is usual to hang out the washing in the morning and bring it in later in the day; dry and ready for ironing.

Not today.  The weather forecast was for showers late in the afternoon.  With that in mind I stripped the bed before having breakfast, set the machine on Go, and left it to do its duty.  Less than half an hour later, and before the load was washed, a 'mizzle' drifted across the land; not enough to be wetting, but wet enough to dampen.  A decision was made by Significant Other ... we would take the washed clothes into the laundromat to be dried. 

That is done; I have a bundle of folded clothes ready for ironing ... however, Tuesday is ironing day!!

As I sat in the laundromat talking to another lady drying her washing, the conversation turned round to habit.  She too washed on a Monday.  And my mind slipped back to wash day for my Mum.  The copper was filled, a fire lit underneath, and the water boiled.  I am not sure of the exact process as I was banned from the wash house.  But there was always a smell of steamy soapy water.  She used a washboard [the same appliance that was later utilised by skiffle groups!], tubs of rinsing water, and a blue bag, that doubled as an aid to ease the pain of a beesting. 

How times have changed!  Now we have water running into the washing machine which in turn slips into whatever mode we have set on the dials, lights flash, water spins out, the machine refills, rinses, spins etc, and at the end the machine [well mine anyway] plays a little tune and the lights fade into oblivion.

I wonder when the day will come that an 'automatic' iron is invented?

Who are we?

I suppose that with the 'discovery' of the Higgs Boson particle there was some reason for a wandering mind.  I have little knowledge of this mysterious particle and listen, half in awe, and half in wonderment [how did they do this?] as we are assured 'we' can use this knowledge to advantage!!  Reminds me of the old saying, trust me, usually uttered by a politican offering platitudes.

My mind is sometimes perverse and travels it's own little route.  This time instead of casting forward into the far distant future, the past crept up on me ... no doubt helped by seeing, in a magazine, photos of long ago.

Most of us have a collection of photos.  I know I do, and many have been in the family for a few generations.  Some I have absolutely no idea who the models are.  I am loathe to turf them out as they might be important, a link to a past of which I am as yet unaware. 

But there is one photo that I do know about.  The elderly gentleman, with a long white beard, and piercing blue eyes, is my paternal g.g.grandfather, and thereby hangs a tale.

We were led to believe that this gentleman, who was one of the early whalers and sealers [an occupation considered a great No No today, but way back then whale oil kept the lights of the world glowing] on the South Island's southern coast of  New Zealand, came from a military family in Australia.  We even learned about him at school!!!  Now that was one moment I could proudly put up my hand and inform the class that he was my ancestor!

But the military family was but a cover ... his parents were convicts sent to Australia for petty theft.  Australia was a new colony of the British Empire and citizens were required to build infrastructure.  He had older siblings, but by the time he was born the 'powers that be' had allowed his parents to marry.  Being a convict had certain disadvantages, of which marriage was one.  The convict had to have served their time first!  Even history books on New Zealand schools were wrong.  

One day, a few years ago, another descendant of this gentleman was bitten by the ancestry bug.  The bite itched and itched, until she decided to look for a cure.  Documents were examined and facts were discovered.  He was not a 'son of the military', but a son of convicts.

Way back then shame blanketed such parentage, but today those of us who have such ancestry, can proudly claim our heritage.  Still, it is such a shame [in my today thinking] that the mammoth task performed by those convicts in building roads and bridges, towns and cities in a far off land so different from their home, and sure in the knowledge that they would have one change in a million of seeing their family again, has not gained acceptance until today.