I wish I wish I knew the right words...

Flying blind with music I chanced upon this (or rather it chanced upon me, ringing in my ears this morning) on the way to work. The Whitlams. High school and Melbourne summer days in thin, watery sunlight.
Strange and random, it's a song about kicking the pokies habit, but the music is just beautiful. I listened to it three times until I got to work, and it affected me to such an extent that by the time I was crossing the carpark I wanted to swing my arms and twirl about. I didn't. But I wanted to.

My days continue to be light and sometimes unbearably full - especially on weekends. This last weekend started with B taking the majority of his things from the apartment, before M arrived in orange work shirt as requested. And they ask on the 7pm project, why do women like tradies? Well...

Norma and I had some brief errand running adventures on Saturday morning before M and I drove to Harvey (past the tacky Chinese restaurant where it all tipped in his favour last December) and walked along the leafy creek. My dear old Minolta is back in action, and I relished the clunkyness of it. Of course the photos will probably not resemble the beauty that I pictured but the act of creating made me very happy.

Sunset pooled orange light in the bends of branches, and on long eucalyptus leaves as they melted in the dusk. Leaving the car some way back on the path, we trekked across the orchard, where the deer had left half eaten oranges littering the ground. Logs where pigs had scratched and grunted to satisfaction were also visible, but alas the only animals we saw were kangaroos. And there were many many of them.

We pitched the tent on the farm, between a tractor and a caravan, within plentiful earshot of the cattle. I loved it. The moon was warm and yellow and M made the bed to such a degree of comfort I could have screamed when the alarm sounded at 5. But it was undeniably worth it, getting up at that time.
Morning was just a bright line across the horizon behind the trees, that grew and blossomed in colours as the minutes slid by. And there was no sound, just the crunch of our boots in the undergrowth and the caws of the crows and cockatoos wheeling above. Sometimes the boom-boom of kangaroos bounding away broke the gentle peace but my heart leapt at each one. The novelty of seeing them has not worn off. I suspect it never will.

We walked until 9 or thereabouts and after packing up had a huge fry-up in Harvey before returning home.

I drove some more of B's things over to his new home last night, Norma's boot slap slap slapping in the night traffic. We were sad together when I left (B, not Norma) and when I got home I sat out on the balcony for a while, letting my head fill. But it wasn't all sad. This is the light at the end of the tunnel.

And Hank is back in May....walking Oxford Street in Leederville alone, back when the west was my wild adventure, solitary as I was, he came with me:
“Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.”