Heavenly Beverley : 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!