At Home

I thought this blog was going to be about Broome, my wonderful week long stay in remote far north Western Australia.

I found the most perfect photo to illustrate the vibrant colour of sea and sky, but the blog wouldn’t come. It felt like a travelogue or a crowing, the writing version of a ‘slide night’.

I want to write about being home, about now. It’s very early in the morning, I’ve just come in from my garden and I still have dirt between my toes and under my fingernails . . . I garden bare footed. I love the feeling underfoot, I can sense how warm or moist the soil is from my shallow roots on earth. Since returning from Broome we have had four days over 34C (93F) so I have watered and mulched this morning ahead of another scorcher . . . and I just can’t go back . . . and it feels wonderful to be here now . . . as it did in Broome when I was there.

The rabbit found a hole and ate all my bean seedlings, so I replanted eight more hard white beans. They will sprout with in days. I mended the tear in the netting and pulled more thistles out. The geese arrived and demanded seed, so I threw it to them and it lifted and spread in the breeze, so now I can hear Cockies and Choughs squabbling over the remains. Everyone else is still asleep except the birds and me. It’s not still; the trees are waving in a strong cool breeze. It’s not quiet; the birds are making the most extraordinary racket. I want to say I feel still and quiet, but really what I feel is at home. I feel at home. It’s not the place, it’s the awareness of being here now. I’m sorry I missed the opportunity to share Broome with you when I was at home there!

Now I’ll shower and go to the Farmers market for the best soy latte in the world, the ritual that marks the beginning/end of my week. I’ll talk to strangers and neighbours. I’ll yarn and trade with the honey man, and Alf the former wharfie who makes delicious strawberry jam, and Bill who sells ‘cosmetic’ raw milk (didn’t you know it’s great to bath in . . . of course once you have bought it, you can do what ever you like with it!) Maybe I’ll find a spectacular hat for the Greens garden party this afternoon.

Ahhhh and all the while the hard white beans will be doing their magic, that I am just a little part of.

P.S I couldn’t part with the photo of Broome . . . .