“Mum, why do you have mud on your hat?”
I didn’t reply but attempted a withering look at my adult son. Given the circumstances, it was surprising there were any surfaces on me not covered in mud. I couldn’t understand how my cheeky offspring had remained spotless, especially as he was such a mud magnet as a child. Continue reading
What kind of bird would you be and why? This is one of a long list of “What kind of” questions sometimes asked by counsellors to help survivors reflect and move on from a childhood of abuse or neglect. What kind of toy, vehicle, flower, tree, bird or dog would you like to be? Continue reading
“Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream? “
Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream Within a Dream
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I had such grand plans. I always do. You’d think by now I’d be a little more realistic. But what is life without a dream or two…
If you read my last blog post, you’ll be expecting me to reveal the gory details of the Great Finger Debacle of 2016. Continue reading
Rare adventures with my adult daughter, Tough Cookie, are always memorable, and the great finger debacle of 2016 was no exception. Continue reading
Second chances can be rare. My last post, The Tarcoola Track, showcased a very short city walk. The 21km Ship’s Stern Circuit at Lamington National Park is at the other end of the extreme and for me was a celebration of being given a second chance. Continue reading
When this twentieth century of ours became obsessed with a passion for mere size, what was lost sight of was the ancient wisdom that the emotions have their own standards of judgement and their own sense of scale. In the emotional world a small thing can touch the heart and the imagination every bit as much as something impressively gigantic; a fine phrase is as good as an epic, and a small brook in the quiet of a wood can have its say with a voice more profound than the thunder of any cataract. – Henry Beston, Northern Farm
A few years ago, Australian Geographic listed the 17.4km, class 4 Coomera Circuit in Lamington National Park as one of the 16 best day walks in Australia. I’m not usually someone who takes much notice of “best of” or “top 10” lists. In fact, I usually avoid them because of their subjectivity. However, in this case I’d have to agree. The numerous waterfalls, creek crossings and lush rainforest justify its inclusion.
“Accept the abundance,” the Cormorant Bay Café waitress ordered with a bow after placing a complimentary freshly brewed coffee next to my meal. Abundance sums up my three explorations in summer of the Wivenhoe Dam area, 80km west of Brisbane. To be honest, I would have been satisfied with much less abundance of sunshine and sweat while attempting to walk the 16km of trails. Continue reading
“The river itself portrays humanity precisely, with its tortuous windings, its accumulation of driftwood, its unsuspected depths, and its crystalline shallows, singing in the summer sun.” Myrtle Reed, Old Rose and Silver
I’ve always derived pleasure from watching sunrises, sunsets and rivers. Given the vast amount of poetry and photography dedicated to these subjects, I’m not unusual in my interest. Sometimes though, we can observe something in nature for years and then be gifted with an epiphany. We view it with new eyes. I had one such moment recently. Continue reading
When I pictured kayaking again after a 30 year hiatus, I envisioned a calm, crystal clear lake, not the flowing, murky-brown depths of the tidal Brisbane River. So when my brother called me up a few days ago for a spontaneous kayaking adventure beginning at Colleges Crossing, I had a few reservations. Continue reading
My last post was about a recent walk in the rain through lush subtropical rainforests in mountainous country. This week I’m dragging you back 15 years in time to Porcupine Gorge, a walk my young family did in hot, dry open country, 1500 km north-west of Brisbane. Continue reading
“Are you made of sugar?” I smiled as I remembered these joking words from my childhood while my little green car struggled valiantly up the winding, slippery mountain road, her windscreen wipers squeaking in protest. No, I wasn’t made of sugar. My body composition is about one third fat. Rather than melt in the rain, I’m more likely to float away. Continue reading
