Over another Hump

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Ink's Blot.


He reclines on the table,
seeking sunlight
on a frosty morning.
Black as midnight
until the sun's rays burnish
his body, turn him
into a bronzed hologram.

Father of three, his confidence
assures him welcome as
he makes his mark in lives
of his servants.

Neutered now, but
he still thinks he's got “It.”
Creates mayhem
tumbling through
our home and hearts.
Mere humans, we swear,
then laugh at his audacity.

His only foe, his big mumma,
Queen Victoria of cats, snarls
her displeasure,
until a truce is made
and they share
the warmest bed to
sleep the day away.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Recharging


Recharging.

I've been planning to make my shopping list for a fortnight and here it is the day before we go to town and it's not started. Life seems to be taken over by trivialities; necessary, irritating routines that suck up free time. I haven't even checked my cupboards. I sigh, collect my note pad and move out to catch some winter sun. After the unusual long 'wet' the water table has risen and the ground is damp and cold beneath my feet, despite the frequent frosts we've had. I realize how I need that warmth, now I'm sitting still.

Well, sort of sitting still. Three kittens join me, investigate this invader in their territory. Crumble, the one with the crumpled ear, claims my pen only to be pushed aside by jealous Tutt, the bull-arab mastiff.

My son's dog, she thinks she's still a pup but weighs more than I do and tries to oust the kitten, scattering the other two as she makes her move. She loves her grandmother and is jealous of others who are getting my attention.

Overhead in the African Mahogany, blue-faced honey eaters vie with black and white butcher birds for food scraps tossed out by our caged ring-necked parrots. A skink scuttles up the trunk, followed by curious kittens. They scatter the birds momentarily, dispersing rivalry.

I smile and think what an equalizer nature is. The handsome honeyeaters, biggest in the world) have harsh calls while the more utilitarian butcher bird has a call so pure and sweet, and their true notes vary from region to region, even in Charters Towers, where we shop tomorrow. Their song is a show stopper and never ceases to enthrall me, as it does now.

I forget my list as I watch the theatre above me, luxuriate in the brilliant sky scape, happy just to be. Country sounds of cattle, geese and goats mingle with the rattle of rail cars and road trains moving through the town. My pets frisk around me and I feel renewed.

This is why we live here, I thought as my husband braved the cool morning and joined me. I began my mental trip through the house and began writing down supplies for another fortnight.