Spring is in the air

Although August is still officially the last month of winter in my eyes it has all the hallmarks of spring; the birds are tweeting their love from the branches, flowers have emerged amongst the verdant green of the luxuriant weed growth replacing the dry barren brown of summer and autumn, and the wattle is in bloom.  Wattle, or acacia as it is 'officially known', has many species abundant in Australia. 

In my childhood my aunt, who lived over the country road, had a huge wattle tree that was a picture of yellow in spring.  My one attempt to bring a small branch indoors was met with the rebuff, "Don't bring wattle inside, it brings bad luck!"  In my maturer years I believe that the bad luck was asthma or hayfever that some members of my family suffer from.  Wattle never affected me!  Today I have a small branch indoors bringing a touch of sunshine into the room. 

As the rainfall in the mid-west has been amply sufficient for the farmers' crops, it has brought added benefits to the area.  A wild-flower season exceeding all expectations.  While we do not have many wild flowers, such as orchids or wreath flowers, or even paper daisies in the vicinity, we do have a yellow flower closely resembling the dandelion family, but which at the moment has created a virtual yellow carpet brightening the paddocks and creating a feeling of well-being to us humans.

One wattle tree that suffered what was meant to be a debilitating pruning only caused it to flower more prolifically in its chosen spot at the base of a white-barked gum tree; a picture that only nature can paint. 

Today the sun is shining brightly, there is a warmth in the air only present in spring; a promise of warm weather but not a threat of stifling heat, and although the ants are busily mounding up their doorways in anticipation of rain, today is a day to better no other.  It is indeed great to be alive in the mid-west of Australia.

It is easy to see why the national colours of Australia are green and gold!

Countdown

'Tis pendantry to estimate nations by the census, or by square miles of land, or other than by their importance to the mind of the time" ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Today is Census Day in Australia; the day when the population is counted, when the number of bedrooms in each home is recorded, numbers living in each residence, their occupation, and a myriad of other questions that are designed to help the nation decide where money needs spending in the future.

All this is information is statistical ... and of small importance to those filling in the 18 page questionaire.  The final question asks if each person present in the household on this day is willing to have their information kept in the National Archives of Australia and made available after 99 years; this is for tracing ancestors.

As like most our form will be filled in this evening. 

This five-yearly count of the population etc is interesting to the individial if they take a few moments to consider how their lives have altered over the past five years.  Where were we five years ago?  Where have we been in the intervening time?

Today many move from place to place, unlike many in days of yore who were born, lived and died in the one town or area.  We are more mobile today than in the past, and each place where we have resided leaves a different footprint on our minds. 

The last census occured days after I arrived in Australia to begin a new phase of life.  Soon after I moved north to a job in a town I had never heard off; in a climate much warmer than experienced before.  I adjusted and settled into a lifestyle so remote from that ever experienced before.  Life is a series of experiences that make a person whom they are. 

Now retired I live to the south of that Outback town, but still enjoy the simpler lifestyle of the country.  All those little things I had put off 'for when I am older' are now important parts of my daily existence.  Apart from the heat of summer, the flies, the endless procession of flies, the ants that abound in summer, this new life suits me fine.

I wonder where I will be for the next Census?  What adventures will I undertake in the next five years? 

Time Out

Everyone needs time out from their day to day tasks, even those of us lucky enough to be 'retired', but not tired.  A recent invitation to house/dog sit in the Big Smoke was accepted, not only for the change of scenery but also for the chance of a nosey around city shops that do surpass those in our regional northern city.

We left home on a grey morning, the threat of rain following us south.  Living in a farming region we appreciate the need for rain, and to give it its due the landscape is a glorious green so restful for the eyes and soul.  However a small part of our pysche would have liked sunshine, if only for a day.  It was not to be.  Rain fell every day and tried its darndest to dampen our enthusiasm for enjoying the break away.

Shops are fun ... for a couple of days.  Then there is no reason to venture into crowded malls where busy shoppers rush from one shop to another, yet seldom carry many parcels.  Except me!  Not to worry, I now have a couple of rather beautiful new-season's apparel that will see me through at least two summers. 

One day we drove from the outer suburbs south; visiting my daughter.  The day did dawn sunny and we headed south light in spirit.  The further south we went the darker the sky became; huge grey clouds crowded the sky pressing their weight of raindrops against the skyscrapers and the cranes perched precariously on their half-completed tops.  It was difficult to make out the workmen up there!  They looked like ants as they hurried and scurried around the rooftop moving whatever the huge piece of concrete that had been carefully manipulated into place in the sky.

A quick walk with the dog, and it was off to my daughter's for tea.  The threatening sky darkened even more; lightning pierced the sky and the thunder echoed over the Swan River, whose ruffled waters showed a hidden side from the peace and tranquility of a sunny day.  Weather warnings were broadcast over the radio and TV; batten down for a storm!  Not wishing to be caught in the onslaught we made a hurried exit and drove up the motorway in the hope we would out-run the rain.  We did ... almost, but arrived back safe and sound.

Rain and thunder and lightning accompanied by strong winds continued for the next two days ... it did not matter as we had purchased a couple of videos and commonsense being the better part of valour, stayed indoors.

Travelling home I had intended stopping to take photos, but, the weather was unsettled.  Instead I clicked as we drove and did manage to capture quite a good photo of the lime sands that are exceedingly spectacular when the sun shines.

Why??

I have just finished reading "A Brief History of Time" by Stephen Hawking; a book I began months ago, put down as the complicated language floated before my uncomprehending eyes.  But this book was on loan from my son, and I deemed it time to return it. 

Of course there were zillions of facts, or theories [at what stage does a theory become a fact?] espoused on those pages; scientific words dotted the pages like a tagger's tags on a blank wall; questions asked and not answered did little to enlighten my mind. 

My son has read this book at least half a dozen times, and he being of a more scientific and mathematical leaning than I, confessed that one must read it over and over for the information to sink in.  Maybe I will re-read it again some time in the future, but then again, maybe not.  Because the main question this book raised in my mind was WHY? 

Why do we suppose that by KNOWING how the Universe began our lives will be altered, for better or worse?

Why does it matter what lies beyond the moon?  Or indeed, does it really matter what lies on the moon?

I know mankind has an insatiable hunger for knowledge, but sometimes I wonder how this knowledge affects the 'ordinary man and woman' of planet Earth.  I wonder why some folk spend a lifetime sitting at a computer [today] or scribbling figures on endless sheets of paper [in the past] to work out an equation that so often in another ten years proves to be nothing more than a walk down the garden path of 'I grew the wrong plant!  Cacti do not like cold wet climates ... I should have grown weeds.'

As I read all those words that I had absolutely no idea of their meaning it crossed my mind that if as much time and effort, and dare I say it money, were spent on working on the many problems facing the Earth today ... WHY some folks are discrimated against, WHY so many go hungry,WHY a few own 90% of the Earth's assets, or rather use those assets to their own selfish advantage, then perhaps this planet on which we live at this moment, might be more joyous, and our relationships with each other a glue that keeps us bound together in making the Earth a better place to live NOW.

Of course we should continue to ask questions ... why, why, why!  Why of course, to further our knowledge.  However I contend some knowledge is of more universal use than some other.

A sewing project completed

The quilt and matching cushions I began not that long ago are now finished. 

For further details click onto this
 http://shirlwin.blogspot.com/2011/07/quilt-and-matching-cushions.html 
where more will be revealed.

Remembering

"Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us."  ~ Oscar Wilde

I have been told that as we mature we tend to spend more time in the past!  Not sure if that is 100% accurate, but then again ...

At lunch as we were munching on a malt biscuit with our coffee I suddenly recalled the days of my childhood when we were dished up a spoonful of malt extract [Maltexo I think was the trade name] to help us through the winter.  Malt was not too bad, if a trifle sticky if the spoon was slightly off course and malt met the face. 

My brother also had cod-liver oil pills ... not me!  I had one once, crunched on it and Yuk!  Not nice at all, and a good enough reason to refuse it ever after.

Then there were warm clothes in winter.  I recall an undergarment, worn over a singlet, called a bodice.  It was white, sleeveless, fleecy if I recall correctly, and had funny buttons down the front.  The texture of the buttons was sort of soft and pliable, but as this was last century I have no idea of their make-up. 

Some of our classrooms were older than the new block which had heaters around the walls.  The old block had pot belly stoves that belched smoke and ash especially just after they were 'fed' with coal.  All children had to drink a small bottle of milk that in winter, was placed near the pot belly stove ... to take the chill of it!  Another Yuk!  [Though I will admit that expressive word didn't occur in our vocabulary way back then!]  Thankfully we lived on a farmlet and had our own cows.  With a great sense of relief I persuaded my Mum to write a note excusing me from school milk.  The only good thing about school milk were the cardboard tops to the bottles, which made excellent bases for pom poms.  No doubt 'town milk bottles' had the same cardboard.

Now we have centrally heated schools, children seldom wear more than three layers of clothing, and as for malt ... I have a feeling they only know it through malt biscuits.

Roygbiv

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true”

A science teacher told the tale of a race horse named Roygbiv that was named after the colours of the rainbow, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, recommending the name of the racehorse would help us in exams.  I am not sure that we were ever required to name the colours of the rainbow but questions about refraction of light and other associated questions were asked.

This morning, while outdoors scratching the remains of the porridge pot as a bird breakfast with a darkening sky I glanced upwards to see a glorious rainbow.  A photo opportunity!  Then rainbow enveloped the western sky, like a protective duvet on a cold damp morning. 

Rainbows are a marvel that never fail to attract my attention, and the science lesson about refraction of light etc did nothing to diminish the beauty of 'roygbiv', one of a natural wonder of the world.  Dream a dream whilst looking upwards dreams can be as fleeting as the rainbow, but like a rainbow their return may prompt us into action.

As for the race horse story ... I am left wondering if the horse was rainbow coloured, or the jockey's attire rainbow coloured, or perhaps more prosaically nothing more than a gimmick name.