Thank you for reading my words and for following me. I am a collector of stories. I also write to try and explain life's happenings to myself. I write poems about the environment, climate change plus fun rhymes aimed at young kids.
Can I Call Myself a Writer? Maybe Yes. Maybe No. Grammarly tells me that I am doing well within my nuances of language; But is that enough to say "Yes I am a writer" I believe I could call myself a wordsmith but is that the same as being identified as a writer?
The Cat and The Currawong
I heard only today about this hysterical, yet quite cunning story, My friend has a really great little cat called Zuki, and she excels in the catching of mice. She is a fairly new rescue cat and has taken a couple of months to settle into this home, but to her credit, she has now become a fully-fledged mouse-catcher.
It’s Raining Mice!
In the past two years we, as in Australians have endured drought almost continuously; huge, devastatingly terrifying fires; the wretched pandemic and, now we have a plague of mice, rodents that are relentlessly moving down from Queensland and heading via New South Wales towards Victoria.
Land Banking, as I have experienced it vicariously through the actions of a friend and on a small scale, appears to be quite worthwhile.
Kookaburras, Gum Trees, and Snakes!
Kookaburras are absolutely gorgeous Aussi. birds. They laugh like crazy and make me smile. Quite pretty too. It is often said that they warn humans about whether there is rain coming - get your washing in! - and also if there is a snake in the vicinity. Regular little alarm systems.
Cockatoos, A Hot Air Balloon, and A Walnut Tree.
A number of years ago I lived with my sons in a house in an older suburb of Canberra which was directly under the flight path of balloonists. I loved this aspect of living in this house as the hot air balloons drifting by are not an unattractive sight.
A Summer's Day
Those fires of a Summer Day are but sombre takes as they beat in memories of affray, forever pierced, lodged in minds and hearts of men; become blanketed thoughts of a scorched childhood. Remember December, forget not the sound of fire as train-like it roars downhill; its will, mission to destroy and kill. Fire unstopped in its violent path, becomes a relentless living, wrath-filled entity that burns all that obstructs leaving only memories of what was. Bigger than man earth fights back. Becomes a force, living, breathing, growing, consuming oxygen, foliage and fauna sweeping life to ash. Remember December and the ignorance of science decriers, those soothsayers of non-belief, fearlessly blinkered old men. The reality of man and his dollar downfall. A conspiracy they said but really economic piracy of our land, at best. Read the science and remember the fires fed by ignorance, those fires of once beautiful Summer days, the heat and homelessness of people now untethered and animals headed for extinction; joyless, personal odes to ignorance. Think long on what was; on gardens of delight, flowers of passion, and beauty now rendered to stubble and angst. Forget not those memories of fearsome, huge, untethered Summer fires. Remember December.
A Somewhat Dodgy Chinese Translation!
Some time ago in the 1980s, when I was somewhat younger and shapelier, I decided to go to Sydney for a night out. The idea was to have some fun.