Wednesday, May 17, 2017

of flying & jumping

Overhead rosellas squawk - hundreds, thousands, of them, wheeling and swooping, forming groups and then dividing. Rain is starting to fall from a soft grey sky, darkening as night descends.

I'm in wet bathers, babe on my hip, worried about the rain and my camera, but entranced by the cacophony of birds, their swiftness, their freedom, trying to capture the amount of them, their glorious motion, but knowing I'll only get an echo. Only occasionally do I have a glimpse of their bright colours - the light is too dim and they are too high.

It's mother's day and we've driven across the bridge - my favourite bridge - which I'm thinking of renaming Pelican Bridge for the birds that always sit on all the lights - to the island.

It only took us - what, two hours to wait out Adventure Boy while he cavorted on the roof, not wanting to come to the beach with us - despite knowing full well he'd be likely to get both fish and chips and an ice-cream when we got there - unless we caved and gave him the money to buy diamonds for a computer game. Two hours later - after we'd got out the picnic blankets and moved from the car to the front lawn - he finally said yep, I'm ready to go.

And when we arrive of course he loves it, and is so happy playing on the flying fox with his sister, long after night has fallen - that he won't leave...

We wander the shore, jump off the fishing platform into the currents of Pumicestone Passage, scoff fish and chips, build sandcastles and maybe see dolphins (or maybe floating wood).

And then the sun sets behind the delicate formations of the Glasshouse Mountains, the light softened with rain.

Rain. Sea. Island. Birds. Flight.

We drive back in the dark with the gentle falling rain and the heaters on - still in wet bathers, but content. Solace for another hectic week.

 (Giggle Bear ran into the edge of a door frame chasing balloons with her sister. The doorframe won.)

 Wonder-Girl is so proud of her sitting. As yet she's only commando-crawling - fast - but real crawling is so close.


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