My garden is not much to look at. It is pretty empty and I’m not much of a gardener. I am working on getting Australian native plants in my garden. There are a couple of reasons. One is that they don’t need much care and very little water. As Perth seems to be getting less and less rain, I believe this is essential. However, Australian natives also attract native wild life. For the first time I found a little friend in my garden today.

Here he/she is:

You can almost see him nibbling away on the weeds. He spent quite some time visiting my garden and with my really clever camera, I was able to take heaps of photos of him, wandering around my weeds and really enjoying his feed.

Here he is again, checking out my fence.

This is an Australian Ringneck (Barnardius zonarius), probably the most common ones we see in Western Australia. He had a lovely time picking his way through my weeds; and I had a lovely time taking his photograph.

I think that was a good arrangement all around.

Madeleine

Saturday, 11 November 2006

 A lonely little duckling. Lost from it’s mother. It will die.

 The human reaction was interesting. Concern. Can we save it? Watching. Worrying. Pity. Imagining what it might be like to be a little duckling, swimming against the current, trying to find it’s mother. Tiring. You could see it tiring. It was only tiny and swimming madly against the current. Can we save it? As soon as it got close to the bank and a human, it paddled desperately the other direction. Don’t come near me. You are danger. I will continue to swim against the current until I die. As humans we could feel the panic. The knowledge that death was near. Little ducklings cannot survive long on their own. As humans, we also knew there was nothing we could do. That there is nothing we should do. Allowing nature to take it’s course was the best for all concerned. None of us know how to look after a duckling, even if we could have caught it. However, there is that constant human need to protect the smaller and weaker, no matter what the species.

 Even as I did earlier, we put thoughts into animals head, human thoughts. Thoughts that we would think if we were in that situation. In reality, the duckling was simply doing what it instinctively does. Swims upstream, against the current, until it finds it’s mother or dies.

 Madeleine

Saturday, 11 November 2006

The first Tuesday in November is a funny day in Australia. Coming from Canada, I don’t remember anything like this at all. Today was Melbourne Cup day. It’s a horse race. The whole country stops for the 10 minutes of the race and it is covered from the minute people start to arrive until the time it finishes. Lunches are normal. Women dig out their pretty (and sometimes outrageous) clothes, and everyone dresses up. The traffic report on my way home from work said to avoid certain areas because people were leaving the race course. However, the race is in Melbourne, not Perth. I presume there are big functions at the Perth race course. Many dollars are spent on bets.

 If you look on the net you have headlines such as “The Race that stops a nation”, and “Fillies and frocks” (a frock is a dress by the way), and “Spring racing a great excuse to dress up”

 There is a parade of horses in Melbourne and apparently “Thousands watch champs' parade” and of course “Flemington scrubs up for unbridled party”. So partying, drinking and eating are the flavour of the day.

At work, we all made hats to wear. This year, and apparently last year, the “fascinator” is all the rage. One of the headlines read “Hats off to the fascinator”. I’d never heard of one before last week. A fascinator is a bit of a hat thingee which looks like this:

You then cover this with feathers, bows, ribbon, plants, anything you can think of and the more elaborate the better. It then has a veil sort of thing:

                

That comes across the face. They are very elaborate and, I guess, fascinating. I’m really not sure what their purpose is, or where they came from, but for me they look like something from a previous era, probably about the 1920’s.

 Anyway as I say, coming from Canada, I’m not sure I really understand all the hype involved. I’ve never been to a Melbourne cup lunch as such, except for today when we all had lunch together with our hats and fascinators. As usual, Madeleine was just a bit different in her hat box. Just couldn’t resist. And I’ve got more ideas for next year.

Tuesday, 7 November 2006

 I’m sure it exists. It’s the downer a person has after a move or a major change in life. It happens at the end of a major project, when you finish your last assignment for your study, and lots of other times in life.

 Our office has just moved into it’s new building. This has been on the cards now for over 12 months. And that doesn’t include the planning stage, getting the funding, waiting to see if we got it or not. This is just the building being built. Is it ready yet?  Will it be this week? All the planning. For the last 3 months we have been packing, throwing out, sorting and organising a building that has been our for the last 9 years or so. We are a very small team, so there was plenty of work.

 For a month, every week, we were going to move next week. Each time, something wasn’t quite finished. Finally, the move happened. It was funny really. After all the planning, thinking, worrying, dreaming, it was over. We are in our new building. It is great. Lots of little things need fixing. Lots of little things that can drive you nutz. Lots of complaints from clients. Gee it’s awful clinical. There shouldn’t be so much white here. What about parking? But we are moved in and everyone is getting used to the new situation.

 Suddenly everyone is cranky and tired. We’ve had so much adrenalin for so long. Now the adrenalin is gone. We are settling into the new routine. The excitement, the adrenalin is gone. Now comes the downer. Nothing to look forward to. The happening has happened and we are pleased with the change. But the world feels totally different. The only way I can explain it is that I constantly feel a little off balance. Nothing is where I expect it to be. Instead of immediately going to a cupboard for some paper, I have to think about where it is.

 Same thing happens in everyone’s lives. We plan. We organise. We worry. Will it go okay? What have I forgotten? What do I need to do next? Have I made the right decision? What will the future be for me now? What will it look like? Then the happening happens. We are pleased with our decision. But………………. Suddenly I’m very tired. I love our new building. I love all our new gadgets. I love our new staff room, the fact that we  have more than one toilet, the space, the brightness, the colours. But………… suddenly I am very tired.

 Why is this?

 Human beings like regularity. They like routine. Look at your daily life. From the time we get up in the morning we all have little routines that make our lives simpler. They are so second nature we are not even aware we are in a routine. We drive to work the same way every day. Even simple things like going to the toilet, we fold our loo paper in a certain way.

 So when that routine is changed, it takes the human time to make new routines. New ways to fold our loo paper.

 Change is scary for many people. It may only be a little bit scary, but change means new routines.

 Change means excitement, worry and many other emotions. When the change happens, the excitement, worry and other emotions last for a short time afterwards. Then the downer hits. Tired. Maybe a bid depressed. It’s an interesting mix of emotions.

 Soon, the change becomes the norm and the new routine is built. This takes time. And building new routines can be tiring in itself. But after 60 years of life, one thing I have learned. Nothing lasts forever. Soon, maybe sooner than I think, my new routine will become my comfortable, familiar routine. I look forward to that time.

 Madeleine

Thursday, 26 October 2006