Diabolical Clay

I adore the moon, absolutely love it. The sight of a full moon makes me shiver with happiness. I had taken a couple of photos of the moon last night in preparation for the lunar eclipse and they were horrible, boring, lifeless photos of a white globe in the sky.

Luckily for me and for you as well, I have a very clever and supremely patient daughter who talked me through the aperture and shutter speed settings on the camera. I was pressing buttons and twirling knobs and nothing was changing when voila I magically found the right combination of sideclick,press and twirl and the aperture and shutter speed revealed themselves to me.

So without further ado and a great big round of applause to Veronica, she of the sleepless nights and cloudy skies, here are my photos of the lunar eclipse over Tasmania.

and for those of you who this technical stuff means anything  I used a Nikon D90, freehand with a 200mm lens, aperture of 8 and shutter speed of 800.

The full moon just before the eclipse.

The beginnings of the eclipse.

It is all happening by now and my nose was very very cold, luckily for me I could keep on racing back inside to thaw out.

This last shot was the moon just before sunrise at about 6.30 am on a frosty Sunday morning.

Not that I was worried really, I was more sort of concerned in an abstract kind of way.

I have had a feeling of impending doom for well over twenty years now. It has never been strong enough to actively make me think about it analytically, it has always just been there whispering to me to be prepared, you never know what’s just around the corner.

Maybe I was a boy scout in a former life, who knows?

So I would like to thank Jessica from La Fin DuMond Farm for telling me that her friend is South American and they honestly dont know what all the fuss is about regarding the end of the Mayan calenadar in 2012 as they have no idea what we are on about at all.

So I can scratch that little doomsday scenario off my list.

Back to my feeling of impending doom though and being prepared. In the midst of the hysteria about the Y2K bug I did hedge my bets a little bit and just in case the doomsayers were correct, I prepared for the end of civilization as we knew it by stocking up on salt for preserving meat, candles for nighttime and matches because they were on special, I figured that I would just play it by ear and that was the end of my preparations.

Six years prior to the Y2K doomsday scenario/hysteria we killed a huge pig, the last of my Wilburs and the day that we killed him the fridge and the freezer died. So The spouse and I and 5 year old Veronica were faced with over 200 pounds of pork and no way to keep it all.

At that time we were living in the bus and a shed, “The Spouse” had recently told social security to go and get well and trulied and so our regular income was zero. I was seven months pregnant and replacing the fridge was akin to flying to the moon.

So I preserved the pork by salting it. I kept it in a brine and we ate an awful lot of pickled pork. Once we had eventually eaten all the pork, it took me a further eighteen months before I could even think about eating any pork products at all. But we did not waste one single piece of Wilbur. Not one bit.

So that is why salt was the top of my list for my Y2k preparations.

Fast forward 16 years, the house is nearly finished and money isn’t as tight as it was back then, I am complacent, overweight and lazy. Now that I am not driven by necessity the main vegetable garden has been neglected in favour of the easier kitchen garden.

The kitchen garden is easier because it is harder for the wallabies to destroy it, I see it every day so I remember to water it when the plants are all droopy and it is of a height that makes weeding easy.

But that boy scout from a previous life is still whispering in my ear be prepared, So I have been slowly restoring the veggie garden.

Even though it doesn’t look like it.

This strip of ground is about ten metres long and two foot wide and has just recently been fenced off at either end as it was the easy access for the wallabies to hop down into the garden. So now the only way I can get into this bit of ground to weed it, is to lean through the fence and reach as far as I can towards the wall. It is a pain and it hurts my back. So I have decided to mass plant in here in the hope that all the herbs and greenery will overtake the stickyweed and the couch grass. Even though it just looks like a green mess there is rosemary, calendula, thyme, oregano, silverbeet, kale and comfrey in here, as well as broad beans and snow peas.

This next photo of the veggie garden shows the red currant canes on the right hand side next to the fence, the remains of the lovage canes, a josta berry and more small broad bean seedlings poking through the earth, mixed in with the chickweed, stickyweed, fumitory and couch grass and a zillion honesty plants as well. There is a self sown apricot tree next to the water tank and a tangle of raspberry canes that need cutting back.

Remember it is the middle of winter here so that is why everything is dead looking.

There is a self sown apple tree in the middle of the garden and this year it grew four apples Yay!  Amy and I had planted broccoli and cauliflowers along with a zillion broad beans but I forgot to shut the garden gate and the wallabies came in and ate them. I am hopeless like that I wander off leaving a trail of half done jobs behind me all the time. I remember looking at the gate when I was busy with something else and thinking I must shut that gate or the wallabies will wreck the garden, and then the next morning I saw the gate was still open and I still forgot to shut it. *sigh* I think it was probably open for about three days and the wallabies were happy with their snack.

This will do me for now as I can hear that one of the chooks has laid an egg and I need to go down into the bracken and see if I can find a secret nest.

Wish me luck.

Today is one year since Mum died.

It has been a very long year.

I am okay now. My grief ebbs and flows but it isn’t as all consuming as it was.

Thank you for holding my hand this past year.

So naturally the overflow has to go somewhere and I either pour it into my work or dump it here.

I’m sorry or you’re welcome would seem to be equally valid responses.

At the end of that last sentence I wandered off and fed the chooks and now I have lost my train of thought.

I worry that our food is killing us and poisoning our children. I look at the number of children with life threatening allergies, with different behaviours and with birth defects. I wonder what exactly is normal behaviour? I worry that our drinking water is so contaminated with pesticides that nothing is safe to eat at all. I think about the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012 and that bothers me a whole lot more than the Y2K bug ever did.

I worry about the unexplained deaths of bats, bees and frogs.

I worry that Tasmania has an incredibly high rate of death from cancer and then I wonder if that is linked to pesticides that are still in use in Australia that have been banned in the US, Europe and Great Britain?

I worry about endocrine disruptors in our food.

I see the signs of a poisoned planet in our frogs.

In our native animals.

In our children.

I worry that all the signs are there, that we as a species are hurtling towards disaster and we are too self absorbed to notice. I worry about HAARP technology, I worry about the oils spills that aren’t reported and I worry that the incredible amount of salt in chocolate will make my blood pressure go through the roof.

Luckily for me I have my blog so I can just dump all these worries here onto you as well and then I can wander off outside and look at my terribly neglected vegetable garden and think about doing some work before spring.

I am finding it too difficult to maintain the veggie garden properly in its current state so “The Spouse” cut an old water tank in half for me and I am in the process of filling it up with compost, sheep poo and mushroom compost ready for spring planting. We are going to re-design the garden so that all the beds are raised, which will make gardening a whole lot easier.

The newest chook pen is right next to the veggie garden but the chooks have abandoned it. *sigh* I kept on forgetting to lock the girls up overnight and when I had the piggies, Mother hen decided to move her brood to a native cherry tree next to the pig sty and that is where they are  roosting now.

They are also laying their eggs somewhere miles away down the bush and “The Spouse” is quite grumpy with me. He really dislikes chooks and I am eternally promising that this time, I will lock them up and that I will clean up after them and that their eggs are delicious. Except I forget to lock them up and “The Spouse” finds the chook shit on the verandah before I do and I am sure the eggs are very nice except I can’t  bloody well find them. Sneaky, secretive things chooks.

It is hard being me and “The Spouse” reckons it is even harder living with me.

Luckily I am easily distracted and even though I think deep, depressing thoughts about the environment, little things make me smile.

What do you think the fourth seagull from the right is thinking? Hmm wondering if maybe he could become an accountant?

In these dreams I will be walking down the footpath and I will just tuck my feet up under myself a little bit and I will be flying.

I always get the same feeling of joy and I wonder, ” How could I have forgotten how easy this is?”  I hover a few feet above the ground and point my arms in the direction I want to go and then I am off, soaring along, happy and free.

I enjoy photographing birds and lately when “The Spouse” and I have been fishing I try and photograph the seagulls and molly hawks as well as anything else that catches my eye.

Birds in flight are really tricky to photograph but sometimes the shots just work and I feel like I am flying as well.

I also have a nagging feeling that I read something very similar on a blog recently so if that was you leave me a comment and we can compare dreams.

Last week Brenda asked on her blog, Mummytime, “where do you hope your blog will take you?”

This morning I followed  a twitter link to a blog post that asked why do most artists blogs fail?

I commented with Interesting point but it all depends on how you measure success. I am an artist and I have a successful blog as well.

So this morning the ideas have meshed and I need to ask the question,

“How do you measure success?”

This time last year I measured my success by my ability to keep those I loved, alive and safe from harm.

I failed to keep my mother alive. The cancer that consumed her was  too strong and the strength of my love was not enough to save her.

My love was strong enough to let her go peacefully though and Veronica writes about it beautifully here.

I failed to protect my daughter from my brother and in his pain he lashed out bitterly at my girl and wounded her deeply.

I am an only child.

I am an orphan.

I am motherless.

I am successful.

We have survived the first year and my son is alive.

I kept my son alive in those dark months following the death of his Grandmother. It was touch and go there for a while and I watched him like a hawk.

I didn’t restrain him when he punched the walls.

I screamed back at him when he screamed his anguish at me. I held him as he cried like a baby and my tears mingled with his, I fed him pizza and let him sleep and protected him as best I could.

How do you tell a 15 year old that grief will pass when you are so immersed in the same grief and the tunnel is too long for even the tiniest glimmer of light?

I managed to get through this last year because of my blog. I could write out my grief here. When there was a deathly silence after the funeral and only my closest friend rang me, I came to my blog for solace. When my head was going to explode with all the words I needed to say I came to my blog.

And you listened. You sent me chocolate and clippies, classical music and cards. You commissioned my art work and made me think of renewal. You posted photos on your blogs for me and You held me close and let me cry. You filled my inbox with  emails and when there werent any words You hugged me and now we are here together.

My blog is successful and that is down to You.

As I am sitting here trying to find the right words to start this post with, a movement out the window catches my eye and I watch four Green Rosellas fly into the branches of a gum tree. Seeing them perched there is a reason to be cheerful in itself, I love these birds, their clinking musical calls, their very Australian beauty.

It is now ten am and I have been fiddling with photos and daydreaming away on the computer for well over two hours. No wonder time just slips away from me. I wont mess about with any more words this morning as they have become unnecessary, the title of this post really says it all.

I received this comment on my oil covered birds post,

Our class has been watching this video as well as the news every day.  We are sad that the birds are covered with oil and they are stuck on the beach.  What can we do to help?  PLEASE WRITE US BACK…LOVE, ROOM 110

I don’t know what you can actually physically do to help room 110, as I am Australian and thousands of miles away from this disaster. I am sure there are plenty of practical things you can do that don’t involve picking up oily and distressed sea creatures though.

You could choose a wildlife organisation and ring them up and see what they need. I do know that volunteer rescue organisations are always chronically short of money so maybe you could organise a fundraiser, a raffle, something like that and then donate the money to an organisation of your choice.

Here in Tasmania a few years ago the community got together and knitted woolly jumpers for the penguins to wear  as part of an oil spill response pack. ( a jumper is a sweater)

Here is a web page with a list of organisations you can contact

I assume that The American Red cross would know how you can help and I am sure that The ASPCA would be another good organisationto get in touch with.

Now as for what you can do in the longer term, that requires a bit of a think. Have a look around your home and really look at everything that you have. The ice cubes in your refrigerator, the throw away plastic bottle in your rubbish bin, all your gadgets, the family car and the clean clothes that you are wearing today.

Everything that enables you to have a comfortable life takes energy.

We are all responsible for this oil spill.

We all need to change our habits.

Reduce your consumption, it is as simple as that. Dry your clothes outside on the washing line rather than in a dryer. Put a sweater on when you are cold rather than turning the heater up.Turn the lights off that you aren’t using. Unplug your mobile phone charger from the wall when you aren’t using it. Dont leave the television on standby. Turn off the microwave when you aren’t using it. Think about that next trip in the car, is it necessary?

Look at how many green or red or blue little lights are on in your house while you are sleeping of a night. Do all those electrical items really need to be sitting there all night silently, sucking power just to save us a few seconds time when we want to use them.

Don’t leave the water running when you brush your teeth in the mornings. Put the plug in the sink when you peel potatoes. Choose environmentally friendly products and ask for organic produce. I am sure you can all think of a zillion more things to do to reduce your own consumption.

Saying NO to plastic is a really good thing to do.

Small things. They are all small things but from little things big things grow.

One person does have the power to change the world.

Because with the amount of giggling and talking I was doing last night at the Hobart tweetup there was a very real possibilty that my teeth could have shot right out of my mouth and flown across the room and that, just isnt a good look. It is one of the tricky little downsides to shiny false teeth, the other downside is not being able to eat really crunchy things but that is a story for another day.

Last night a group of tweeters? Twitterers? People who tweet, met up for drinks and nibbles at Remi de Provence in South Hobart and it was great fun. I wish that I had though to ask where the brie was from as it was divine, the blue was gorgeous and the pate was very good.

I had been a bit nervous beforehand, I hoped that I would like everyone and more importantly I hoped that they would like me as well. As Veronica and I walked across the road to the restaurant my nerves were  forgotten as I recognized people by their photos. Once inside we were guided to our seats in the corner of a small room and immediately we all started talking and laughing and exchanging our proper names.

The group was @Samaramc , also found at Samara McIlroy @StephenEstcourt,also found at Reminiscence of a Food Tragic,  @MaryEstcourt, also found at The constant gardener, @utsicafe,also found at ut si, @SleeplessNights also found at Sleepless Nights and the blogless ones, The Prof ,@quinnal, @JoHCook and of course there was me @frogpondsrock.

We did have a camera but as the light was very flattering the photos are very blurry, so you will just have to imagine us all in our sparkly glory, eyes glowing, hair shiny, free of children and stable of tooth.

I would like to organise another tweet up in Hobart very, very soon and everyone is invited. We need a venue that has a bit more space than Remi’s, though I am happy to  go back there just for the cheese alone. So any suggestions from Hobart people on a venue is more than welcome. We need to consider the ease of parking as well as somewhere that we can talk and be heard easily but they wont mind if we are a bit noisy and the food needs to be decent.

In the spring time I would like to organise a tweetup at the gardens so that children can come as well. That will be fun.

In other blog meeting news I am meeting up with Watershedd tomorrow at Salamanca market and I am looking forward to that very much. I must remember to glue my teeth in for that one as well. hehe.