As summer continues to bake our garden, it becomes more difficult to find anything to talk about. One can bemoan the cost of the water with which we irrigate the garden on a heavy daily basis. One can whinge about the dry thunderstorms and the humidity immediately after. Or whine about the longing for an autumnal-styled day so one can work happily in the garden.
Apparently maunder is another word for meander, meaning a leisurely walk.
I recently maundered through a friend’s garden. It’s an exuberant garden, high-spirited and vivacious with colour.
Fifteen blog posts…
http://pruebatten.com/2016/05/15/fight-and-win/
http://pruebatten.com/2016/05/26/poo-n-stuff/
http://pruebatten.com/2016/05/30/where-else-in-the-world/
http://pruebatten.com/2016/06/05/licence-to-party/
http://pruebatten.com/2016/06/25/breathing-the-sea/
http://pruebatten.com/2016/07/23/name-calling/
http://pruebatten.com/2016/10/31/a-time-of-firsts/
http://pruebatten.com/2017/04/21/voter-backlash/
http://pruebatten.com/2017/05/22/counselling-the-council/
http://pruebatten.com/2017/05/30/inconvenient-truths/
http://pruebatten.com/2017/06/18/floating-my-boat/
http://pruebatten.com/2017/06/14/transparent-as-mud/
http://pruebatten.com/2017/06/18/floating-my-boat/
http://pruebatten.com/2017/08/05/four-twenty-blackbirds/
http://pruebatten.com/2017/09/14/art-spin-doctoring/
… countless hours of time, a few thousands of words, days spent in tactical talks with the powerhouse of the anti-fish farm movement, weeks spent on the phone raising a fighting fund in the early days, hours spent doing leaflet drops. Even sitting with politicians, talking, talking, talking…
And for what?
‘The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach – waiting for a gift from the sea.’
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Life sometimes makes me anxious.
I’m sure it makes everyone anxious. But the one place I feel content, free and at peace is in, on or by the sea. I wish Mum was still alive so that I could ask her how old I was when I was introduced to the sea.
When did I learn to swim? My memories go back to a time when I could swim and dive, perhaps I was six. After that, the memories come thick and fast…
I’ve just been reading my cousin’s biography.
Nick Riewoldt is the well-known and well-regarded ex Saint Kilda player (football on a par with soccer in Australia, an iconic game) and Allen & Unwin released his autobiography earlier this month after his retirement
Nick’s young. Close to my son’s age.
Time out, time away, time to breathe…
I have a personal tradition that I try to celebrate every birthday on Maria Island, not far from where we live. I’ve been doing it for years and have visited the island too many times to count. Not just for birthdays but for any boating day during the year. It has a unique air, an island away from an island. The days are always enchanted and enchanting.
This was one such.
As a writer of historical fiction, one appreciates all the grand historical times – the Greeks, Romans, Dark Age Britain, Vikings, Byzantines, Renaissance. Sweeping, glorious stories that are the stepping stones of the world as we know it today.
But sometimes, history is miniscule. And personal.
