Mundanity...

... for Knots in the String.

Today, the Womble and I walk round the bend and up the hill. For him, it’s a sniffathon. For me, it’s heaven.

The bird call is crystal-clear, the sound of a silver spoon on fine glass, a harp chord, a tinkle of silver bells. The light is like gold dust. The sun in a pure sky is flooding the bush, and the staccato drum of the waves on the beach below is sending spume up the hill – it is the floating gold dust of which I speak, tinted by the sun.

Womble stops when he hears something he doesn’t know. Stock still, digesting the sound. Running it through his little brain. Should I be afraid? Is it okay? Thinking, thinking. He throws a look my way and I give him a discreet nod.

A dog barks in the distance. We stop again. Because to try and move him on is like towing something embedded in cement. The computer runs. All clear and so we move on.

Near Simon’s property, wood is being chopped, hens are clucking. We halt. More computing. He is learning about life and every day is quite overwhelming for a seven month old. But he makes his own decision, onwards, past a little flame robin flaunting his cardinal red chest.

As I walk, I wonder how the beauty and peace could be more perfect. Oh sure, I could be touring Paris, gazing at the Alhambra in Spain, soaking up warm rays in the Maldives, climbing peaks in Nepal.

Instead, I’m solitary with my pup in Tasmania, observing gold dust, smelling ocean-laced air to the accompaniment of a pellucid orchestra. The meaning of pellucid? Transparent and clear.

I think of what I really want in my 70’s, the last part of my life, and feel that this is it. Walking in glorious peace with my dog and living in a funny little cottage with my husband (and my Womble).

The gold dust floats gently, aureate motes misting the whole hillside. And in the trees, one solitary bird sings soprano. Womble stops, head cocked. Listens, looks at me and gives me the faintest nod.

Other things:

1. The world. Despite that I write of escapism, of a world apart from the world at large, I’m not ignorant of what is happening outside my country. While Australia is the archtypal democracy, functioning as smoothly as we can hope, there are places in the world where people are suffering and where genocide is a government policy. I said to a friend today that humanity is more important than borders. A fool’s wish…

2. We and Womble had a lesson with our dog trainer. He’s doing so well for a little seven-month-old. It does help that he’s a rather charming little thing who teaches us much in the process. It’s so patent that it’s the parents of dogs who need to learn, not the dogs. Dogs are innate, innocent bundles who trust in everything and only want to do the best they can, and we need to capture those moments. Eyes in the back of the head… and all around. The little fella had a friend to visit for lunch the other day, along with his Mum who is a friend of mine. Once George (a blue roan spaniel with the most soulful eyes I’ve ever seen) had established the ground rules, they got on beautifully. A long walk along one of my favourite beaches – the dogs running, sniffing, our pup running wide rings around the sensible, self-contained spaniel. I love seeing our chap growing, learning, but mostly enjoying his life. He has some lovely friends – Vita, Elsie and now George, and very cautious and circumspect acquaintances with Molly and Teddy.

But he’s as happy to go on a sniffathon with me or my husband, to lie dozing in the sun, or to observe life all around. He’s a very placid and quiet little dog… so far.

3. I also swam after a hiatus of a couple of weeks and thinking the water temp may have cooled even more, I climbed (unwillingly) into the full wetsuit. It wasn’t as cold as I imagined and the water was translucent. My feet and hands were snug in booties and gloves and I thought to myself as I attempted to lie back, closing my eyes to the glare of the low winter sun, that nothing beats this. Except when I tried to swim! Honestly, I was a big blimp! The added buoyancy of the wetsuit curved my legs back behind me in a banana-like arc. Add to that the fight to get out of the wetsuit. Don’t speak! Suffice to say I came home sorer than when I went in and am now slathered in anti-inflammatory creams and two heatpacks!

We have our coastal winter solstice swim on Saturday morning at 8AM to raise money for Suicide Prevention, and I’m truly tempted to go in my short jacket, booties and gloves and actually enjoy the swim with everyone, rather than struggling like the Michelin Man. But then perhaps I’m a coward. Time will tell.

4. Postcard Club! As you can see, I’ve received quite a few. It’s rather special going to the mailbox and taking out a handwritten card and learning about the other person. It’s also good to try and help handwriting survive in this techno-driven age. I’m about to send out another batch just because, and wonder if you haven’t received one from me yet, could you let me know in the comments, please?

I’d also like to mention Maree from Western Australia. I received a second card from her this week in which she mentioned her health isn’t good. For those who don’t know her from Instagram, she’s been undergoing gruelling treatment for Lymphoma. It’s not her first turn around the block with it but she’s always upbeat and radiates an innate strength. I’m sure all Postcard Club members wish her nothing but the best as she enters a major treatment week, and Maree, here’s to energetic happiness and positivity heading your way, along with mail from me. XXXX

5. I’ve finished listening to The Vanilla Killer by Peter Boland. Fiona, Partial Sue and Daisy are still solving murders, and I find them hilariously daring in their septuagenarian sleuthing. These women are not doddery old things, that’s for sure.

I simply will have to read the next one, Death of a Wild Swimmer. I’m ‘partial’ to a dip in the icy sea, as you know!

6. But much of my reading lately has been research for my latest contemporary fiction … an indirect follow-on from Passage. Finding the detail about ballet companies in the 2020’s is not as easy as I’d hoped, with comments from PR departments like ‘our dancers are very busy’, ‘our company is on tour’ and so forth. But Shane Weurthner, former principal with the Queensland Ballet and former soloist with the Vienna State Opera Ballet and the San Francisco Ballet stepped in. Now the visionary mind behind https://www.athletistry.au/ , Shane is giving me answers to add depth to my tale.

There are of course, many online references to dancers, their lives and their injuries but I want the detail from within. TBH, I want a ballet voice to tell it to me, warts and all. Shane has done this. So I crack on and thank the stars this is a work of fiction. Knowing full well that when it’s finally released, a dancer may well read it and review it with slings and arrows for any perceived fallacies, fallacies which are my errors and not Shane’s.

Music for this week?

Well because we’re learning waltz choreo in ballet class and because this week I like blue dresses, this one…