Tuesday, February 23, 2021

Celestial



Every day brings new ways of seeing the world. 

My family now have a telescope - a weighty, serious affair that is strictly my Beloved's business to navigate - and we are now seeing the universe in different ways. 

The names of galaxies and nebulas trip of my husband's tongue. I learn them more slowly. In the cool of the night, under the intensely brilliant stars of rural Queensland, we search out the seven sisters or Pleiades. We look at Sirius and I learn the names of dozens of stars I'd never heard of. Most of the time they sound vaguely like something from Star Wars. I discover different names of nebulas. The Spindle. The tarantula. I intend to track down the Emu, which I believe is seen in an absence of stars. (Although I could be wrong. When it comes to space, I generally am.) 

We study the craters of the moon, the way the light falls so differently at different times. I intend to learn the names of all the seas of the moon. My Beloved spouts fascinating scientific facts that I promptly forget and will have to ask him again with pen and paper at hand. I adore being married to a science nerd. 



Our star and galaxy photos are not yet as good as our moon photos and I am itching for the time and energy to use the tripod without the telescope and all the different things I'll be able to capture. 

But for now - the galaxy is ours - waiting at the end of our lens. 








 

Monday, February 22, 2021

Roses


The last place we lived was humid, and the roses surrounding us were hardly worthy of the name. Now we live in a dry place the roses are deeply scented and luxurious.

We have one rose bush in our garden, well established and bearing abundantly wild and sweet scented blooms. I lack the time to give it the attention it deserves, but it is deeply loved. 

It reminds me of fairy stories, Beauty and the Beast, The Sleeping Beauty. It reminds me of the garden of my childhood, where my parents still live, and gathering flowers as a child. It reminds me of beyond the everyday and mundane. 










Sky


I have never seen clouds like them. My youngest daughter and I had gone into the garden to search for tree frogs enticed into the open with the recent rain, but the sky distracted me. 

The rainbow was the most brilliant I had ever seen. Scolded for dereliction of my frog-hunting duty, I tried to pay attention to the hidden life of the ground, but the sky had me desperately taking photos as the light changed with every second. 

The rainbow faded - in it's place were the strangest clouds, rounded and illuminated in eerie pinks. 

I ran inside to fetch the rest of the family - but when I returned they had gone.  





 

After the Rain

 

Heat is cloying during the day, and then a sudden downpour, and the evening light is magical. Our thirsty plants transform into something fantastical. Raindrops cling to leaves and flowers and one can almost sense the greenery rejoice. 








Home

 

My grandmother's death brought me south, and while grief and loss remain, it was so good to be home after so long. 

Since my return north bad timing and bad luck has had my family batted between isolation, quarantine and back to isolation. With four already tired and cranky children this has not been fun, but I got to go home. 

For the first time in over a year I felt the weight lift from my shoulders, the heaviness from my bones, the edge of desperation dissipate. 

Home.  








Wednesday, February 10, 2021

Fantastical




Creating worlds I find inspiration in observing the world around. Creating a fictional world for a fae-otherworld I take note of the miniature in this world. Fantastical structures of web and vine astound me in their ingenuity and other-ness. Lines from Midsummer's Night Dream weave around my head. My camera is clumsy at catching the fall of light on the gossamer webs that hold ornate structures together, but in testing it I am forced to look more closely at all the silken strands and my imagination works at seeing the world through the eyes of something as small as a spider. 

























Wednesday, January 6, 2021

Princess Thistle

 


My children have a beautiful picture book called Princess Thistle, which tells a fairy-tale like story of a king and queen who long for a child. A thistle in their garden takes pity on them, and transforms herself into a baby, until they lock the gates of the castle and imprison her - albeit for her own good, to keep her safe. 

While all parents are biased about their children, my Hufflepuff often reminds me of a character from a fairytale.  Sweet-natured, kind, imaginative, enthusiastic, graceful. I am deeply, deeply grateful that she is mine. 

On one of our evening walks recently there were thistles in bloom amongst the roadside weeds and my mer-girl became entranced. The spikes perplexed her, but she persevered, exclaiming over the softness of the flower, the scent of the flower. As she traversed the road examining her hard-won find (we returned with scissors the next day to gather more) I photographed her, and thought that if I ever wanted a model for a fairytale princess, she would be the clear pick.