Orchids.

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More flowers.

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The way it goes, Gillian Welsh

Rocks, Flowers & Lockdown Walk

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Some More Magic

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/gallery/2021/aug/27/australian-geographic-nature-photographer-of-the-year-2021-in-pictures

Magic Realism & Everyday Life.

Tim Winton’s Cloudstreet was full of magical events . Some characters started to glow, other started to fade, a pig was speaking in acknowledged yet incomprehensible tongues, all kind magical fishing events occurred, ghost appeared and the house in cloudstreet seems to breathe life in the everyday.

With it I (re?)discovered Australia was a fertile ground for magic realism. It also reminded me of Giono and his books full of everyday magical events.

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Today on my Facebook account this ancient report from Bendigo surfaced.

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The Mining Record January 14, 1868.

Remarkable Mirage over Mount Alexander

A beautiful mirage was seen on Friday 6th of December at 25 minutes to 12:00 o’clock on top of Mount Alexander. The Daily News says it was the reflection of a town, but all the objects visible were in their natural position, or rather not inverted as is usual in such phenomena.

The sun was to the north, and shone on the mount. The scene was wondrously distinct and so novel that Captain Simpson, our informant, hurried on first witnessing it, to his friend Mr Fyans, to verify the fact and enjoy the spectacle.

There were streets, spires, buildings, and houses visible for upwards of 20 minutes, when many other folks in the vicinity came out to look at the strange aerial city in cloudland.

The mirage was judged to be about 3/4 of a mile long, and hovered about 40 feet above the summit of the mount, and was thrown out in brilliant light from the background of a dark, heavy of cloud. It began to vanish from the north point first, when it soon died out, as there seemed to be a current driving south.

Captain Simpson suggests that it must have been Bendigo reflected on a heavily charged watery cloud over that town, reflected again on the dark gathered clouds over the mount, and that thus the mirage represented the figures as in their ordinary position.

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When was the last time such a story hit the news headlines? And is that a good thing?

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It seems there was a time where a simpler/ more direct/ less rational approach to our environment allowed us , rightly or wrongly, to see and experience magic.

Children seem to have that kind of connection. New-age practices seem entirely focused on that, constantly rediscovering and rehearsing ancient elemental rituals.

Today Jean and I took cuttings of a Leucadendrum.

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Some of them will strike roots, some of them will not. There will be a rational explanation to it. Or it could be down to just magic. Experiencing and understanding. Two very different takes on living, yet constantly intermixing.

In both cases trying to reproduce the same outcome over and over will involve a bit of learning.

Homeschooling from Jean.

The difference between city life and country life

First off city life is smelly and so busy. Always when you’re driving there’s traffic. But you’re always near the supermarket and Jumpz are in the city so that’s a good thing. In the country there’s lots of plants and you can go for adventures. But the bad thing about living in country rabbits get in your garden. You can grow your food. See you next time.

From Tim Winton, Cloud street.

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About Sam Pickles:

“He believed deeply in luck, the old man, though he was careful never to say the word. He called it the shifty shadow of God. All his life he paid close attention to the movements of that shadow. He taught Sam to see it passing, feel it hovering, because he said it was those shifts that governed a man’s life and it always paid to be ahead of the play. If the chill of its shade felt good ,you went out to meet it like a droughted farmer goes out, arms wide, to greet the rain cloud, but if you got that sick, queer feeling in your belly, you had to stay put and do nothing but breathe and there was a good chance it would pass you by. It was as though luck made choices, that it could think. If you greeted it, it came to you; if you shunned it, it backed away.”

[…]

“People had loved him. He was poor and foolish and people will always have a place in their hearts for the harmless.”

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About Oriel Lamb:

“We’re not frightened animals, Lester, just waiting with some dumb thoughtless patience for the tide to turn. I’m not spendin my livin breathin life quietly takin the good with the bad; bad people, bad luck, bad ways, not even bad breath. We make good, Lester. We make war on the bad and don’t surrender.”

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“We don’t belong anywhere. When I was a little girl I had this feeling that I didn’t belong anywhere, not in my body, not on the land. It was in my head, what I thought and dreamt, what I believed, Lester, that’s where I belonged, that was my country. That was the final line of defense in the war.”

The things you find when they leave: Zsuzsa’s paper box full of Jean’s treasures.

Dusk at the Res.

Jean & Sid

Blossoming plum, Blue tongue, and Seeds.

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I was told yesterday spring in Central Victoria should be split in two transitionnal seasons, sprinter and sprummer. It seems we entered the former. Early signs of spring are starting to show. Golden wattle is blooming, some days are beautiful. It’s just teasing now, winter always comes back.

First orchids are soon to come. Longer days too. I can’t wait.

some crazy winter sunset lights

La nuit vue du supermarché, des herbes, des branches et des feuilles, une “lettre+lego” de Sid et une blague ferrovière locale.

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Tous les ans pendant les pluies hivernales, le barrage du lac de Chewton déborde, créant une suite de cascades dans les méandres normalement sêches de la Forrest Creek, celle là même qui fût au milieu du XIXe siècle le centre de la ruée vers l’or à Castlemaine.

Aujourd’hui comme tous les ans la ruée vers l’eau, ses roches et ses rapides, la construction de barrages, la descente les pieds dans l’eau, et les courses de radeaux de fortunes en écorce me rappellent les souvenirs de Nogent, et nos vacances de Pâcques en famille dans la région Champagnes-Ardennes. Les virées a travers champs et bois, les narcisses, les moulins a eaux, les flèches polynésiennes, le buste de Mitterand en chocolat…

Si proche et si loin dans le temps et l’espace, on réécrit la même histoire.

Now.

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Then.

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Jean’s been sketching

Gold mines, Iron bark

lockdown, friends and football grounds

(jeudi à 16h le gouvernement a annoncé qu’on fermerait toutes les écoles/ business non essentiels/ trajets de plus de 5 km/ visites à domicile à partir de 20h et pour 7 jours)

(la routine, version 2021)

(le terrain de foot est à 800 m de la maison)

Alex’s new clothes

Morning

Night

Last day 9

How Kynan draws me.

Trials

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Familiar scenes… Remote learning 5.0

43

Birthday love.

I tried to draw you as a mushroom.

“Those whose love we wanted but didn’t get, we emulate them. It’s the only way we have in our power to get the closeness and the love that we needed and desired.

So when I was a young man and looking for a voice to meld with mine, to sing my songs and to tell my stories, well I chose my father’s voice. Because there was something sacred in it to me.

When I went looking for something to wear, I put on a factory worker’s clothes, because they were my dad’s clothes.

And all we know about manhood is what we have seen and what we have learned from our fathers, and my father was my hero and my greatest foe.”

Bruce Springsteen, Springsteen on Broadway.

So it was that the day before I turned 43, on the advice of my good friend Andy, I discovered Bruce Springsteen through the Springsteen on Broadway live recorded performance. It’s a performance of intimate and rare beauty, and of very profound wisdom. These words resonated with me, a father of three.

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A very fitting way to end this day of preparating a feast for me and my children, tomorrow, to celebrate my 42 years around the sun.

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I say Bring it on.

Habitats

Lockdown Parenting 101

Deck Survivor Voting Station.

(the things you find when they leave)

❤️❤️❤️

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Also this

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Yes

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Ran

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Ten

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Kilometers !

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Dirty window, secret business deals & tribal council on the deck.

(playing survivor at home- no dad allowed)

Oldies.

(Thanks Google for reminding me how much I love them.)

Frost and Footy

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Two bands I witnessed recently and a winter selfie.

Zsuzsa and I, snapped by Claire, probably circa 2009.

Upon sharing this with me yesterday, Claire warned me. it “makes me so happy and so sad at once”. looking at it I reflect upon the great achievements we produced. the multi-pronged dream we shared and carried. the single minded courage of pushing it through. over and over. the great pride. the beauty and youth of it all. the failures. the shared ambition lost. the prolonged state of paralysis. the silence. the numbing. the dreadful lead to a brave and honest new course of action. the courage showed along the way. of pushing it through again. over and over.

it is often said ignorance is a bliss, for sometimes in acknowledging your truth reality hurts. yet underneath action and inaction always lay a dormant seed. ready to manifest. the truth of two hearts, at time bruised and battered yet ready to rise again.

we are the sharer of a shattered dream. we are the keepers of a new one. we will keep pushing it through, shapeshifting as we need along the way.