Observations on Spring's Arrival (and Michael's Looming 66th Birthday!)

We are well and truly back in the saddle at Station House and the East End Gallery. Much ambivalence was my lot for the first ten days or so after returning home. Now that the volcanic eruption of washing has reduced to intermittent belches, I am feeling much more in control. However, the ironing pile is currently a Bridge Too Far...

The weather has been rather kind the last few days, a touch of drizzle, followed by flashes of late winter sunshine. Our house, with its deliberately northern aspect usually becomes deliciously warm during the day, negating our need for heating until after sundown.

Despite my status as a loony Cancerian Moon Maiden, I have always craved sunlight and find the shorter days during winter very trying indeed. I am eagerly awaiting the spring equinox on 21 September when the daylight hours start becoming longer than the dark. And prior to the equinox is Michael's birthday on Saturday, followed by the retail and emotional extravaganza that is Father's Day on Sunday. We may even visit the pub for a spot of Father's Day lunch if we can organise shutting the Gallery for a couple of hours.

Michael's birthday and Father's Day are always within cooee of each other. In fact, every few years they actually fall on the same Sunday, which may be somewhat irksome to him. Those whose birthdays fall in other festive periods may experience similar irritation. There have been occasions that both days morph into one celebration, diminishing both events. As for me, I make a point of acknowledging both Michael's birthday and Father's Day. My children are pretty good at congratulating him for both days as well. Plus, our pets always have a knack of acquiring some special gifts for him. I would suggest they must have a willing associate to carry out their bidding.

With the beginning of spring a few hours away, we are very aware that 2021 is three quarters over. Another year seems to be scurrying past us. We have been together for over twelve momentous years and married for almost ten. We often muse our personal changes over this time. I was 47 and Michael 53 when we met at the Whiteman Park dog exercise area. I still owned a walking machine and was very keen on my exercise, though I had given up running. Michael was very thin but had energy to burn. We thought nothing of chatting to each other late at night when Michael would be up very early the next morning. Our first trip to the Goldfields involved no shelter, just camp beds, swags and tarps to protect from inclement weather. We gradually added more luxury - a large tent and then the faithful gazebo to keep rain off us. And we began stopping for more than overnight at our favourite spots. 

We slowed down considerably with the collapse of Michael's health in 2010. We didn't return to our beloved Goldfields until 2013. We began to crave hot showers in remote servos rather than relying on bucket baths. We experimented with dehydrated meals to lighten the loads we carried. We added the trusty trailer. Then in 2017 came our first caravan. A steep learning curve and ongoing disasters has not caused us to lose sight of the big picture provided by Digger - a comfortable bed and a cooking space free of pesky insects. 

The Gallery has also changed our routine. Being immersed in this creative environment takes up more than half of every week. Then, there is the background paperwork, rejigging the Gallery and Giftshop, adding more pieces as we make room...

This week, I added sourcing a new laptop for Michael, as the drowning by coffee killed his previous device. This means a trip to the Big Smoke tomorrow to pick up his new laptop, leave it and the corpse with our computer guru, Jason of Navada Computers, to transfer the data. Throw in shopping and we will have more than enough to do. We always return to Station House after such a day with a palpable weariness.

Becoming older is definitely not for the faint of heart. We may have difficulty completing multiple tasks in a day. We do not do mornings well. Michael and I regularly drop, spill and break any manner of items. Brain fog robs us of  quick thinking. We may struggle with our short term memories - recollection, word identification, people and places. We have limited energy that may fade with little warning. We juggle what we want to do with what we need to do. For part of the last two days, I retreated into our courtyards to pot and move and trim my mini-jungle of much-loved plants. Another of my reactions to the coming of spring.

The upside of ageing is shared experiences, comfort in each other's orbit, understanding and humour. Lots and lots of humour. The day we stop laughing will really mean we are old.

Bollocks to that!

My dressing gown would have to be one of my favourite items of clothing!

LOL...

On a regular basis...

At a SLAB class with fellow enthusiast Shirley...

Michael - winter 2010...

Kate - winter 2010...

A beautiful view from Quajibin overlooking Yenyening Lakes...

Getting married - 2.1.2012...

Our divine grandtoddler Immy...

Escape on our Northern Exposure July/August 2021 -

Back to reality...

And never get old...

A Love Letter To My Brother David...(To Mark The Occasion Of Him Almost Becoming Old!)

My brother David and I have always shared a rather special relationship. He was almost nine years old when I arrived, the youngest of the four siblings. Michael, four years my senior, became my playmate and confidante. If I needed love or comfort, Michael was my haven from Mum's inconsistency. Simon, seven years older, kept his cards very close to his chest to survive the daily chaos of our household. I only discovered later that Simon was a hilarious, generous and exceeding interesting soul. 

Mum, consumed by her mental health illness for much of her life, was manipulative and divisive. She had always wanted 'a happy family' but her reality revolved around being the centre of attention. So, she played us off one against the other, each of us always believing that somebody else in our house was her favourite.

David copped a great deal of flack from her. Mum floundered with having a boisterous handful as her first born. When Simon came along two years later, her attention turned more to him. Thus, Simon and David fought like cat and dog during their childhood. This just exacerbated the tension at home. When I was six, David was packed off to boarding school as Mum's solution to the situation. Interestingly, David and Simon became great buddies as they entered adulthood.

During David's indictment, plans were hatched to move into a bigger house. Dad was as pleased as punch to secure a brand new double storied house across the other side of the city from where we were living. Changing schools in the middle of year 4 was harrowing for me. As a red haired girl with buck teeth and freckles, I was teased mercilessly by a bunch of much more sophisticated girls. Michael was still my guardian angel, but Dave and I embarked on a voyage of mutual discovery. Maybe because we were two misfits.

Within the confines of his turquoise coloured basement bedroom, he introduced me to the music of the late sixties. Herman and the Hermits, Joe Cocker and the Beach Boys blared out of his record player. His room became the scene of my very mild rebellion. I felt honoured that my big brother actually encouraged my presence.

Five years in Sydney was a blip in our relationship. David and Simon remained in Brisbane and the rest of us moved to the very big city. Michael did not cope, at fifteen, with the Dark Ages of his new school and quickly descended into his own private hell. The second he was able, he fled the remains of our completely dysfunctional family. Simon chose to restrict his visits. At uni in Brisbane, he could not cope with the ever present drinking and then the shouting that coloured any time with Mum and Dad. Dave did try to keep in contact and I treasured his companionship whenever he was with me.

Back to the Gold Coast at the end of year 11. My third high school. Fortunately, my new classmates had grown out of bullying, but apart from Vicki Lea Baker, who became my best friend, I didn't really have much more than acquaintances. And there was always the fear of Mum's behaviour if I did have a friend at home.

One lass that did visit was one Susie Hansen. Dave also happened to be at home that weekend. Susie, the product of a Danish father and Czechoslovakian mother, was voluptuously stunning.  I had never witnessed Dave in the company of such a gorgeous creature. His eyeballs shot out of his head on stalks during his encounter with Susie, her bikini and our swimming pool. I must admit that occasion has amused me for the last forty-five years. And Dave promptly released that I was actually growing up.

I saw little of any of my brothers after I moved west. However, Mum's death was the catalyst for all of us joining together again. After thirty-nine years, I was reunited with Michael. We exchanged observations and beliefs from our fractured relationships with Mum. We discovered the mistruths, the deceptions, the constant shifting of her calculating affection that caused so much harm. I loved Mum, but I don't miss her one iota. However, out of her passing came some colossal good.

Coronavirus has really put the kybosh on any sibling reunion for the time being. However, thanks the the phone and the internet, we are able to stay in contact. In my case, in spite of the best of intentions, my efforts are fairly spasmodic and usually unpunctual.

Dave turned sixty-nine on 22 August. My realisation that this darling brother of mine is approaching seventy is almost beyond comprehension. His boyish charm, quirky sense of humour and all round nice guy belies his years. Happily settled into retirement with the fabulous Kerin and now elderly dog Kenzo, I wish Dave a wonderfully belated birthday and look forward to the day that we can clap eyes on each other again.

Love you, Dave. 

With Kerin and grandbaby Elisabeth...

Of course they are normal!

At Freddy Fudpucker's café

With Michael and Dad...

His usual exuberant state...

At Mum's funeral...

With Dad...

Enjoying life...

Scattering Mum and Dad's ashes in a lovely location...

A blast from the past at Simon's wedding. I was sixteen and Dave was turning purple!

Farewell to the Northwest, Hello (Again!) Winter...

We are currently resident in Yalgoo, having left Marble Bar three days earlier. When we left the Bar, the temperature was hovering in the low thirties. We received rather a shock as we approached Newman to let the dogs out for a toilet break. The temperature had dropped significantly. We dug out our cardigans and jumpers before we arrived at Newman's Yurlu Caravan Park. This new park, where we stayed during the first week of July, was showing signs of dryness - the new turf unpowered sites were disappointedly brown in patches due to limited reticulation. We had booked a powered grassed site to escape the road base ones. The cost for the lawn jumped ten dollars. The morning desert wind was decidedly chilly

The second night away from the northwest was at Karalundi Caravan Park, fifty-five kilometres north of Meekatharra. The tariff was much more reasonable and the grounds were beautiful. The staff were onsite and very enthusiastic. The café and reception were warm and inviting. Attached to a boarding school for aboriginal children, Karalundi is set away from the highway in a quiet location. Five stars. But the temperature kept dropping. We added an extra sleeping bag and cranked up the heater. The following morning was very brisk indeed.

And onward to Yalgoo. We arrived around four thirty on Thursday. Although the sun was still fairly high in the sky, we noticed the coolness as soon as we exited the car. We had changed seasons irretrievably and I must admit, we were not entirely comfortable with the shift.

However, this too will pass. And there are bonuses for a cool and wet winter in the southern half of Western Australia. Between Mount Magnet and Yalgoo, we were mesmerised by the stunning display of wildflowers. We had seen hints of the season to come when we'd set out on our way north in early July, but now, the colour palette was in full bloom.

And the good news is that, as we head south, prices are becoming far more affordable. Fuel has dropped twenty cents a litre. Caravan park fees have dropped steadily and here at Yalgoo, we are paying eighteen dollars less a night than we did in Marble Bar. I was able to buy three meals worth of meat and chicken at the magnificent Mount Magnet butcher to see us through until we are home without breaking the bank.

One nagging concern is that the places we love in the northwest are becoming too expensive for pensioners like us. Our winter escapes are for Michael's health, both physical and mental. If we stay in Beverley through the winter months, any chest infection that he develops inevitably leads to IV antibiotics. We discovered by accident four years ago that escaping part of winter reduces his risk of succumbing to a lung bug when we were in Queensland for the end of July and most of August. Since then, Michael has only had a couple of mild infections that responded to the "atom bomb" three day course of very powerful oral antibiotics.

Onslow on the coast is still affordable. Pensioner discounts for more than seven days at the Ocean View Caravan Park help keep costs down for couples like us. The whole site has been redeveloped with pleasant landscaping including rapidly growing trees. The amenities are new and as a council run park, cleaning is scrupulous. The seven day a week supermarket is well stocked with prices that are not over the top. The Beadon Bay Hotel, unlike the Ironclad in Marble Bar, has less than extortionist prices. Even the Beach Resort was accessible for a treat on two or three occasions and dog friendly. 

We will return to Onslow in 2022 - we have already booked. However, Marble Bar is a different story. We shall have to make sure we are completely self sufficient, so we don't have to buy any supplies there. That is a shame, because we enjoy supporting the local communities. However, when the pub and the caravan park are both in private hands, unfortunately profit seems to dictate services.

We are delighted to be stopping in Yalgoo for three nights. This stay will give us a chance to re-acclimatise to winter before we are home. And fossick, of course. Plus, Michael is keen to show me the Thundelarra Road south east of Yalgoo when we leave on Sunday. We may or may not decide to run the gauntlet and drive all the way home. We have no money left and the dogs are sharing our meals.

Has the trip been worth the disasters and stress? Absolutely! (Most of the time)

Stay tuned for our next exciting instalment...

Last memories of Marble Bar 2021 -

Late afternoon light at the Bar...

What the hell is that wet green stuff?!

Canine joy at the Bar...

Marble Bar pool at dusk -

Magda on the road again...

Gods playing with boulders...?

The "overwidth" Great Northern Highway - note the fully sized three or four trailer roadtrain on the side of the road giving way...

Escort vehicles in front and behind these three juggernauts...

Gorge country around Newman...

Welcome to Karalundi...

Reception and café...

Lovely campgrounds...

CRC Meekatharra - Jo with her husband's artwork...

And the larger than life Mizz Anna Johnson!

Arriving in Yalgoo...

Midwest sunset.