Weeding, am surprised by a native orchid, Laddies Tresses, almost cerise, emerging from the white pebbles afloat in our small Zen-like garden. A slender focus, a tiny rupture in expectations of rampant Paspalum. After ten minutes I am exhausted.
On the way in, another wetland survey. Pleased to see a pair of Chestnut Teals, last seen here a year ago (the 13th).
A single Grebe was vigorously bathing.
After dropping Wyn at the airport, an eyecheck. They wanted to test my hearing. A new option I refused. I can hear fine – overservicing is rife. The Chinese optician was lovely, explained the images. No changes, cataracts still in early development. No macular degeneration.I told her I visited in 81, bribed my way in. She got my sense of humour, I forgot to ask for her real name.
2
Wyn is away, giving a talk at the State Library, so my sleep is slightly unsettled. I’m standing on deck sometime before midnight. The sky pressed flat, eyes finding patterns of sparks, the circling trees have lost their colour and sense of time. Ears locate the sea sounding ravenous, cool air grazes every inch of my skin.
Night never goes out of date. Night is different to the day. It’s not just the light. Sounds tangle, at least they do here – a trembling congestion of insects, a conspiracy of multiple food webs.
Naked, I feel close to the elements, to time waiting in the hidden galaxies, and my own thin future. Orion is almost directly overhead. I filled in forms earlier with my name and date of birth, but now the collective me feels like a wanderer in a Jurassic world.
Mind and flesh are a mere dense abstraction of atoms. I’ve forgotten the moon!
Our beautiful satellite is floating somewhere beneath me. And after such efforts to create the myths and stories, to invent telescopes, and spend billions to stand men on top of it! For now, the moon is of no importance. More important things are missing: peace among citizens, love for the natural world, Wyn, words . . .
