How to make Traffic Jam

 First, prepare your pots. Pre-season with a deluge, smeared well right up into the nooks and crannies of your headwaters then let it flow well towards your cooking range. This can be prepared up to 3 days in advance.

Ingredients:

• 3/4 of the people in a 200km radius who needed to come into town in the last 3 days 
• 3/4 of the people who have wanted to leave town in the last 3 days
• 3/4 of the people who had been working from home heading into the office after 3 days (i.e. Jeanie)
• 3/4 of the school students returning to school after 2-3 days (i.e. Paris)
• 3/4 of the rubbernecker's doing a little flood tourism 

Method:

Put all of the above into cars on any of the 3 ways Jeanie can travel to work.

Open both bridges across the river.

Let jam set.

For additional spice, ensure that at the very end of this colossal trip Jeanie should remember that she forgot one vital item for returning to work.

Yep. The laptop was still in Paradise.

Well, that was an unexpected

 Sort of Monday.

I awoke to the inland meeting with the ocean in my front yard.

Image: the ute with the remains of an optimist start to the March lawnmowing season. Beyond is the stormwater system of the easterly reaches of the nearby big town plus a lot of rain overnight.

I sent my apologies to my yoga instructor at 5am - a pity as my body (& probably my mind) really needed yoga.

Image: the stormwater drain and the flat beyond 

An hour later and I was asked if I thought that perhaps it would be best if Paris take advantage of inclement weather and I thought that I had answered "we will see" which translated into her language as "what a great idea".

I wasn't going to argue. I had one deadline at work that I really had to achieve and by then the water had subsided to 

Image: freshly washed streets

So I went to work leaving her at home with V.

Well, it rained and rained and rained some more.

Image: satellite weather map

I met my deadline and went to grab a coffee from the kitchen and when I came back the bosses were saying "if anyone foresees difficulties getting home, go now' but I thought that I would be fine. Then I got a message that school was asking all parents to collect children. And then V sent this

Image: the ute with the remains of an optimist start to the March lawnmowing season. Beyond is the stormwater system of the easterly reaches of the nearby big town plus a lot of rain overnight. So yes, exactly like the first shot but later in the day 

And I realised that the get out of dodge call might possibly apply to me.

So I drove from big town to Paradise and it rained and it rained and it rained.

I stopped at the shops in the hopes of our street subsiding a little but have a guess as to what it was doing outside while I was in the shops?

That is correct. Rained. And rained.

And rained.

There was a little pause and I discussed strategy with V.

On the street, it is wide but not deep, there is no flow, just volume.

Once I was safely home, guess what it did.

Yep.

Image: the rain gauge. I can't read it from here.

I nibbled things for lunch and set up my computer for work.

The office/spare room has a dimmable switch.

Unfortunately we made a tactical error when last we replaced the bulbs and occasionally we get to learn the "and this is why you don't buy cheap" lesson - but sometimes wobbling the controls fixes it and sometimes it's not for too long a duration before the strobe disappears and you are relulled into a sense of security...

This afternoon the lesson went on to level up. I learnt the "why haven't you solved this problem yet" lesson on pulsating colour.  Well, the theory part of the lesson (as the practical would require me going back to big town).

However I (well, V) solved this by unearthing where the lantern was and I resumed work as there is another report that I should be doing.

Image: more of the same 

Well, after about an hour of faffing around the data I needed for this was still unavailable and I declared defeat.

Just have to find something else to occupy myself with.

Image: box cookie kit

Image: out of the box cookies.

Very, very crunchy. Possibly dunkable.

Image: water receding at sunset in Paradise 

Image: the view from the kitchen prep bench. If you look hard I am sort of in this shot.

Now watching baseball and wondering at reports of more.

But it feels like it's done.

And yes. Best dunked.

Come Sunday with Jeanie

 Two disclaimers today - the usual #notaphotographer and Blogger photograph insertion order malarkey. 

Image: very well stacked station wagon.

There WAS science on the final load from the storage unit back to home.

We will be moving in 1-3 months (still a movable feast in the hands of lawyers and the domino setting) and I want some fit, healthy young people to do the pick it all up and take it all there transaction in one fell swoop.

Image: the wall of bamboo 

V planted for privacy for both the neighbours and ourselves, now a whole ecosystem offering home to many birds.

Image:palm trees along the Esplanade

Image: what I am looking at, cat, is the back yard. 

Yes we will miss the height but not the fourteen steps to attain it.

Image: from the washing up sink

This is the picture that was meant to start my narrative. It was going to be reflective yet anticipatory, then something about the cat before I did any out of the housing.

Image: see this is so terribly out of order - blogger, this is like someone tripped over on their way to a slideshow presentation in the 1980s and they fell over and the whole tray went upside down and they have just been shoved back in hoping nobody would notice. We noticed!

Image: see what I mean. This basket of blue towels has become bereft of meaning in this part of the narrative!

Image: boxes stacked and two tapestries done by Grandma J. 

Images: right to left - abstract by KOH; portrait of mother by 'Salina; monacled whale by Jeanie, paired abstract by KOH...

Images: untitled collaboration between Paris and 'Salina; part of amazing sunflower print found at an op shop and poster of "les enfants du Paris" that I have had for at least the last 30 years

Images: Bush Babe of Oz photograph of Riders and various artworks by 'Salina inspired by or for Paris.

Image: crackers pre-oven - I may have had a dummy spit  on the first photo for the cooking theme today.

Image: post oven.

Image: our own little Dragon 

Image: the view from the passenger seat with Paris driving!

Image: Palms. Rain.

Image: in the distance, a house with a sold sticker 

Five Photos on a Friday

 This post carries my usual #notaphotographer disclaimer.

I have actually managed to work River's Words for Wednesday in to the below.

Image: Attention! Eight Upright Cranes Against the Brisbane Skyline 

Isn't it funny what you find when you randomly hit upon photographic memories of the past? This is from a few years ago now. I remember being bemused by Brisbane's constant reimagining of herself and fluffing up her property like peacock plumes.

Image: A Very Well-Watered Gauge

My whole family have always measured the rain - actually no, I lie. There was a time when living interstate or in Brisbane that I didn't, however I now have a good few years of data here and I could never envisage not doing so. 

My Grandma M used to measure with a jam tin and ruler, which helped me to understand and really visualise why rain is measured in millimetres (or inches) rather than millilitres (or pints). 

It doesn't matter whether you use barrels, barrows or buckets, it's the depth of water collected that is measured.

Image: Buy Yourself A Yankee Dude'l Life

This was a genuine van saleyard in a genuine US city under a genuine United States of America flag and I knew that I was not in Queensland any more. Far more likely to spot a coyote than a dingo in downtown Diego.

Image: Holding Still For the Photographer (2x Great Grandmother Jane Gibson Burnham 1880's ish?)

I can't believe that I haven't written the tale of this woman here before. 

I had always imagined Jane to be a lone figure with scant information in family folklore, this mother of stoic but silent sons. Honestly, I knew nothing of this woman until by chance I discovered descendants of her sisters.

An orphaned spinster of 26 who brought the balance of her teenage siblings to Australia from the terrible times for all, including the Anglo Irish in the North of Ireland in the mid 19th century.  She could read and write and had special skills as a laundress.

The family whose history had been lost in migration to the emerald isle a century or two before reinvented themselves anew down under.

Doesn't she look formidable?

Image: Roo Butt on High Beam

It's currently raining here. They are predicting possible bucket loads across the weekend. Definitely enough to deter any thoughts of mowing. Luckily there are a few of these about to keep the front looking neat.

Such weather will also bring out the instant idiots, no doubt. Those lights may have belonged to one of such a tribe, checking the water levels and gauging the lie of the land.

Instant idiots because you only need to "just add water" and its like magic.

Put a vehicle between a mud and this particular chemical reaction and watch with your heart in your mouth as thought and reason sit on the sidelines and dispair.

Red Moon at Night

 There was a Red Moon tonight over Paradise.

Of course I didn't take a picture. 

A. I have always had dodgy eyesight, so it was enough to attempt to see something, let alone capture it in a meaningful way to make it recognisable in the future. My clay is words. My sense is ears.

B. I have been surrounded by visual people who delight in the art of photography. There is no need for me to swell their ranks.

You will just have to imagine the tiny porch on the top of the stairs, wind howling, Paris beside you and a starry sky to the South Eastish direction.

It is hard to tell if the misty blur across the bottom third of the moon were cloud, eclipse or the natural sheen of distance.

The sky behind is reflecting the lights around - tiny bulbs spray the wall of a neighbour and the street lights near the intersection.

Night birds know there is something up and are voicing the rejoicing of the dark red hue anticipated.

Image - not a picture of the scene described above, rather a very uncurated look for the sunroom - its natural state for the majority of the nearly two decades we have lived here

Edit - oh, and Eddie. RIP beautiful boy

Oh, and if you zoom in to the second window, there are two beautiful creatures and their humans 

The Sun Room

 

Image: Sunset in Paradise 

As GZ often laments, Blogger has a habit of reversing your pictures (probably inherited from Word - an obscure admin geek joke - never mind) - I'll just have to work with what I've got.

Image: Rain Scene in Paradise 

For nearly 20 years I have paced this Sun Room, posing theories, created poetry and watched the world.

Image: Kangaroos Grazing in Paradise 

I have seen through it in love, in baby haze, in disasters, in the pandemic.

Image: Just One of Those Days in Paradise

In an earlier lifetime, it was the windswept open deck of what my father called The Retreat.

Image: Void Kitten in Paradise 

We have watched little ones grow out to almost full-size

Image: Red Sky in Paradise 

There have been times that I have been lost for words,

Image: Sunset Streaking Across the Sky in Paradise 

sometimes too many words that couldn't quite grasp,

Image: Kangaroos Enjoying the Afternoon in Paradise

And sometimes just too lifed out to pay enough attention.

Image: One Bombproof (but unfortunately not ant-proof) Mailbox in Paradise 

But this lofty view on life has a timeframe.

Image: Clouds Over Ocean in Paradise 

All sorts of dates happen in the next 10 days and the next few weeks and months.

Image: Dusk in Paradise 

Sunday selections

River is my main connection to Sunday selections - as usual very ordinary pics with a waffle of words on offer here.

Picture of a piece of timber at my parents place with many extended family brands - Dad is third generation Australian and basically over 90% of his heritage is agriculture and livestock.

I did a search but apparently I have only done one real branding post (way back in May 2007) - and earlier in the week Ms Moon confounded me by having to Google what Marks and Brands were.

Isn't it weird, what one person grows up knowing innately and other never encounter?

We were in the saddle before we could ride bikes, learned how to drive before we hit high school and got paid in child labour by getting a calf branded for us each season.

I always chose the prettiest one for mine. We were only ever allowed to choose steers and only from commercial paddocks but that was preferred anyway as they were often the prettiest in my eyes - brindle or spotted with a twinkle of non-conformity in their eyes.

Image of a magnificent silver-leafed Ironbark (I think) on a Queensland country road

I have just come back from a trip out to visit Mum and Dad - 'Salina was with me. We always drive past this tree and made the decision to stop on our way home today. This isn't even her best angle but it was raining and the side of the road not conducive to more than a cursory click. That and the rather ordinary photographer on this side of the phone.

Image of proteas from a friend's garden delivered for Mum while I was there 

Yes- even though I am not the level of nearly blind that I was using as an excuse prior to cataract surgery, my skills as a photographer didn't get any better!

Poetry society

It was wear a jersey to work today (to support your favourite team #) but I forgot. When reminded I explained that I would be wearing what I had on to poetry tonight which is sort of a sport, isn't it?

The first poet's night of the year was held this evening.

'Salina and I attended.

The regular hostess is taking a few months off because baby (π) so instead we had the awesome pairing of compere J---y and softly spoken Z.

First was the lady from the potter's guild with an invitation to offer artistic inspiration

Then G with an apologetic recitation of witty brilliance aired before. (§)

Y had found a very gentle and calming recitation she sourced from a play.

K spoke of death and the beauty surrounding it.

(¥)

I can't remember if next but a first time reader was in the next few and oh, a funny and punchy poem regarding NDIS.

(∆)

Oh that's right, the amazing and brilliant T was next with her Mistake poem, and it was a ripsnorter. We all went on her journey and recognised the landmarks.

R in his beaten up hat was in there too with a charming poem about a housemaid and a jackeroo, a fishing yarn and a bikini.

I had edited a version of Morass Mess and a very old poem of mine (about 1993) Lament for Lost Chance at the Last One Night Stand.

I must do that one for you one day.

I can't remember the order of the ones after - I think j did one about yoga - a very funny rhyme - and a beautiful one in honour of her Mum, passed on 31 years ago this month.

D did a marvellous Cat poem. There was also a God one not sure if in this set or next.

D (D's partner) had us up a mountain.

We went on a nostalgic trip to grandparents during summer as well.

I am not sure if that is all before the break.

After the break was a few new performers and a few of the first round also had another turn.

New girl with another brilliant poem about recovery, U had a couple of turns with soft lilting charms, J honoured Banjo Paterson's A Bush Christening (~) - and a T recited the words for Five Years by David Bowie (+)

I got to finish the night so I did a new one - Sounds a Bit Like a Country Song - and a relatively old one - Bottling Kisses (%)

Footnotes

¥ Yes, it got a little heavy

∆ One thing about a room full of poets is odds on the majority of us got our social skills from the back of a cereal packet if we were lucky and had the 3.95 postage and handling.

That and working in finance. Or with computers.

Anyhow. That's an aside. (Or rather, a footnote)

% I went to see where I need to link so you can see Bottling Kisses but you can't because apparently I have never shared it before.

$ We might have bought the citrus house 

# as this weekend is opening in Vegas for the NRL - N at work is a bleeds maroon Broncos supporter

π I get it - although sometimes it takes nearly two decades

§ Nobody should ever apologise for working on your favourites. Seeing performers get into their work is part of the process of poetry for me

~ A favourite of Dad's to recite.

+ When I mentioned that to V he knew the song immediately and stayed while I looked it up for the link

Morass Mess

 Don't go out there tonight.

Don't go wandering into the cesspit that is

The multi-fonted opinions of others 

You cannot hear your own thoughts let alone voice them

Without being over typed and whited out

Control.

Alt.

Delete.

How easy to become pixilated with distress 

At the mess

Of the world 

Through this Lens.

We need to stop.

Step away.

It is so convenient,

Nestled there in our hands 

Offering an

Avenue to

The outside -

But it tricks 

It slithers our minds into 

Places that grasp the eye

And mesmerise.

The magic a sleight of content 

Designed to drown distrust no matter

What flavour discontent we drink.

It holds the door firmly shut

Every service 

Every transaction 

Every interaction in life

A tendril holding us in its embrace.

I remember records playing 

Books read 

Recipes torn from magazines 

Dinner guests 

Playgrounds and pizza parties and

People mingling with people 

I also remember watching others 

Interacting 

On the outside holding platters 

Or giving readings

Or being listener

Ears alert 

Eyes focused yet

Behind 

yet behind 

portrait painting poetry the scene from afar.

Perhaps it is not the phone mine own enemy

but a new frame for an old, old pose.

Stay within tonight.

Stay here and stay safe from the them and their hum 

Humour me

Put it down.

And escape.

A Glaswegian great-great-grandmother

I remember when first doing genealogy, I found the amazing life of my great-great-grandmother Janet .

At the age of 8 she sailed across the ocean on the Libertas with her family (my goodness I am crawling out of a massive rabbit hole the size of a Latin saying looking for a picture for this!)

As a young woman she married a mining man in a double wedding with her sister. What a canny Scot was my great-great-great-grandfather, two daughters off his hands for the price of one!

Over the next 15 years, the newlyweds 

• Marry in Newcastle, NSW 
• First boy born in Newcastle, NSW
• Second boy born in Adelaide, SA 
• Third boy born in Sydney NSW 
• Third boy dies in Sydney NSW 
• First girl (Janet) born in Sydney NSW 
• Second girl born in Sydney NSW
• Third girl born in Emmaville NSW 
• Fourth boy born in Tent Hill NSW 
• Move to Queensland 

I have looked at Emmaville and Tent Hill. They are mining towns in the same remote vicinity of North West NSW. I don't imagine that there was a lot of mod cons in the 1880s out there.

And finally I will leave you with this - from 1871 (not my relatives - that i know of, at least:

Image and text from Trove link - 1873

GILL.

A young medical friend asks our ( Glas-

gow Herald's) advice, or, we should

rather say, our sympathetic condolences

in connection with the subjoined letter,

which we do not think it a breach of

confidence to print verbatim et Hteratum,

changing the real names for others : —

tomintoul By

locbgilphead 25 februry 180073.

Dokter M- ? tere friend, — You

wus told me to rote you a word hoo i

wus felt mysel noo an to gie ye al the

news — my breth no that pad put am

stull fery wake an i canna get oot the

wether hear is fery pad nothin put rane

unless win an a grate dale o that same

too — dokter ye wus say i wus to not tak

a tram whatever on no accounts put

tugal mctavish that al lidge wi hears

wif fery skilly an she say a glep o whus

ky afor twl a klock an anitber at nicht

an maybe a Gamier o tody pefore gump

into my ped it wad pitmericht at wans,

tugal hersel wus fery nere deed a wliil

sins an he tak thre or fore gles in the

day forby porters an it wul' no pe long

afor he get petter an ther no man hear

noo thatl cary a bow o' meal wi hum —

there no be mitch news to told, ye e noo

tugals sister get mariet on last sbuestay

tull wan malcolm mcGregor a fery

decent lat an not pat ore atramneighter

hel kept a piblicans hous an twa o%

thre speeks in the perish o Craiguish —

Donald mcfale get drunk at Kilmichael

market fal an brok liims. legs , in two

place itll pe six minth afor he pit -his

feets tull the ground an may be so—

shop mcdougal broon meres fole gump

a dilk an fall and kill an shon hersel

sbist refus twanty pound the day afor— -

the minister o the establisht' chirch got

a wane last week and shes a poy an

doin fery wel an his wif too an is

prowdst man in hole perish — the fushin

fery pad hear the year an meal fery

dere an coles is two pound the ton

no moar at preasent but remains

Your servant

tull command

Duncan —

Dokter I forget tull say that itll pe

all small glessess thats drunk oot o hear

You sent a word son if you wus alloo

mee to tak a tram.