Sunday, March 11, 2018

As the Storm Rolls Across


The light flees as the storm rolls across from the mainland. Thick cloud cover hides star and moon and all but a few faint rays of the setting sun. The kids leave the shoreline for the jetty, watching entranced as a woman throws in her cast net and then drags it in full of an abundance of small silver fish. 
The lights send shimmering ribbons of reflection across Pumicestone Passage and boats drive in, bringing in their haul (or not) or just stopping to pick up their fish and chips from the cafe. A much more sure-thing for a meal of fish. The light is soft, muted, the temperature gentle. The clouds bulge darker. Thunder rumbles, lightning crashes. A welcome storm. Just as we finally succeed in rounding up the children and bundling them into the car, the sky opens and the downpour begins. 
We drive home in night and rain. 










Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Pumicestone Passage



Pumicestone Passage, a narrow strip of water between Bribie Island and the mainland, is not far from us. Sheltered from the swell of the sea, looking onto the Glasshouse Mountains, it is one of my very favourite places. There is mud, and white sand for the kids to play in. There are dugongs and dolphins to spot - on this trip three dolphins -or maybe porpoises - swam by, slowly surfacing and resurfacing over the space of around ten minutes, while we all squealed and ran to the shore to observe the magic. Recently, night fishing, my Wild-Boy caught in his hands, and was inked by, a small squid. He caught many more in his net, while I nearly caught a foot long crab on my fishing hook. 

Under a bulging dark sky, the storm not far, lightning and thunder in waiting, Beloved fishes and the children explore the mud-flats exposed by low tide. 

Beloved and I were talking recently and one of the best things for kids on the autism spectrum is occupational therapy. While I am not entirely averse to starting our Wild-Boy back at OT when he was going he kept trying to jump out of the moving car and running off before his sessions. Seeing as they went for half an hour and if he we missed half a session that was pretty much the price of a few fingers and a leg I'm not entirely for it, either. And as I pointed out, when it comes to sensory therapy, our kids get a lot from the wild. 
Mud, mud, glorious mud. 












Thursday, February 1, 2018

Under a Super Blue Blood Moon...


The day is hot, so hot, the air thick and oppresive with moisture. Sweat coats us all and we move slowly. Returning from school my wild boy slips outside to return red-faced with a living fish he caught in a nearby lake. We put the fish in the bath and wait for Beloved to return to deal with the hook. The heat is overwhelming. We are sluggish, headache-y. Minutes pass slowly. 
Beloved returns, late, and we head to the sea. The fish is returned to it's home on the way. 
And we step onto the beach and the full super-blue-blood moon (to be) hangs over the sea, and the breeze is cool and playful. 
The breeze is cool. It's like a heaven-sent gift. A promise of the benediction of rain to come.
The tide is low, and we trail out over sand banks. Energy and joy returns. The older kids fish, the younger ones play in the water. The water is warm, like tepid bath water. But o - that breeze. 
Soon, the younger kids are soaked through, and we strip them and they wallow naked in the brine and mud. 
My little water babies, my sprites, my wild ones. 















Friday, January 12, 2018

Water Babies


As many of you know I detest and despise hot weather. The sweat trails. The fungal infections. The headaches. The moist pits. The heatstroke. The inability to leave the house between 8.30am and 5pm without broiling.

This is a problem living in Queensland.

I have multiple exceptions. By the sea, within the sea, during storms. Air-con. (Best. Thing. Ever. Do not even care about environmental damage as otherwise we would All Die and clog up the airways with our noxious decaying smell) And of course swimming pools.

Recently, we discovered what it takes to keep one unmedicated (for the holidays) ADHD, ASD kid from destruction and chaos for a WHOLE AFTERNOON. The constant attention of eight adults (undivided attention of two at any given time) and a swimming pool. Easy. Done. Why have we not thought of this before? Much easier then moving to Finland.







Thursday, January 11, 2018

Boxing Day By Sea (sensory)


The sugar from Christmas still jiving through their veins, two of the four having drawn on their faces (tribal markings? gangster signs?) Boxing Day found us loading our wild ones into the car to take to brunch at my sis-in-laws. And... she's recently moved to the beach so the kids loaded up on some much needed Vitamin Sea. While it is true that we rarely go more than a few days without the sea - I tend to think it's more of a daily requirement.

I read blogs and see Pinterest boards about sensory play and people mucking around with rice and shaving foam and stuff that to me just says disaster (still in mourning that the Wild Boy sprayed all my colour-stay hair mousse in a box and then threw it at his sister, pie-like. It did smell and look like whipped vanilla cream... but... sigh...) Have these people not heard of the sea? Sand. Mud. Trees. And then I hear myself and realise again just how lucky we are that ten minutes gets us to the beach - albeit a mud-flat one, and thirty minutes to white sands...



 Obviously, water is made to be enjoyed. It is warm and it sparkles, and is full of sand, which Wonder-Girl still hopes will one day taste okay, although she isn't tasting quite so much anymore.