Sometimes tis not the window
that makes you stop and stare
But beyond, such beauty,
quietening the heart, slowing the thoughts
totally absorbing in its magnificence
yet framed,
contained
yes,
you must linger longer.
Sometimes tis not the window
that makes you stop and stare
But beyond, such beauty,
quietening the heart, slowing the thoughts
totally absorbing in its magnificence
yet framed,
contained
yes,
you must linger longer.
It was getting late. We should have known where we were. We were tired. We decided to treat ourselves to a hotel; give the tent a rest for the night. We didn’t sleep a wink. Mother Mary looked at us from every wall. The trucks rumbled by. We couldn’t wait for the next night – back in our tiny tent.
Trog’s reputation was gaining proportions appropriate to that of a lion. She seemed to have no fear as she attacked visiting cattle dogs, our own dog Mungo, and the cows when they were near the fence. Our guests were wary of her as were we.
She spent her days out hunting despite the collars and bells we put on her but thankfully, rodents were more at risk than the birds. I used her as a mouse catcher one day when I saw a mouse run under the kitchen dresser. After I pulled it out from the wall Trog was small enough to get into the space and successfully caught the poor creature. We hated ourselves for having facilitated the poor mouse’s torture at the paws of Trog and promptly rescued it from her mouth and translocated it to the far end of the property, hopefully to survive the fright.
So it came as a bit of a surprise when Trog became too scared to go outside. She avoided it but when she had to go she would go to the door, peep her head out, looking around before she would venture forth. She was obviously frightened of something; but what?
After a couple of days of this behaviour we started looking to see if we could work out what had caused our feisty cat’s alarm. It didn’t take us long to find the reptile that Trog knew she would be a nice meal for.
A huge Diamond Python. Not a venomous snake but it could still give a bit of a bite and could certainly swallow Trog whole without any trouble. We knew we had to move it for Trog’s sake but our nerves were a little reluctant. When it started to make a move to come into the house we knew we had no choice but to translocate it immediately.
Rod collected the necessary implements for capturing it, an empty chicken feed sack and a golf club. As it stretched itself towards the kitchen door Rod manipulated it with the golf club, turning it back towards where I was standing holding the sack open. “Put his head in” Rod yelled at me.
“It’s alright for you. You’re nowhere near it. It’ll bite me.”
“It won’t kill you. Put its head in.” I did as ordered and eventually we had the 2 metre snake securely in the bag which I then held shut at my feet in the car. We drove up the road and released it.
We saw several other diamond pythons around the house that summer but they moved on by themselves and didn’t see Trog as a potential meal.
Thank you for the unexpected nomination for the Sisterhood of the world Bloggers Award made to me by Sherri from A View from My Summerhouse which is found at http://sherrimatthewsblog.com
Sherri really values the sisterhood of the world of blogging and has been a great support to me in my reasonably short blogging life. Sherri’s interesting background and her life writing is truly marvellous. I was not surprised that she was recently invited to be a guest author or that she had won literally many rewards. She certainly deserves them. I am humbled that she has nominated me for this award which I accept, the rules of which are below.
~ ~The Rules ~ ~
Questions
Now the difficulty is of course choosing ten people out of the many that I think are deserving of this award. Here they are:
http://lilmisspoutinessegues.wordpress.com
http://blackhillsreiki.wordpress.com
http://http://ceenphotography.com/
http://godfamilycountrylove.wordpress.com
http://heysparky.wordpress.com
http://painttheworldwithwords.wordpress.com
Loneliness is just a state of mind
Aloneness is a state of being
To be alone and lonely is depressing that is true,
To be with someone yet lonely makes you feel blue.
The art of being alone yet not lonely
Is achieved by very few
Why?
Is it so difficult to attain?
By nature we are herdalistic
Social animals to the core
It’s weird to differ from this characteristic law.
Society compels
That one is not alone,
So psychologically,
Unprepared
In total disarray
Aloneness is not a state that is easy to sustain.
©irene waters 2013
Someone posted a you tube clip on my Facebook wall the other day. I could not help myself. I laughed until the tears were streaming down my face. I asked my husband to watch it. His mouth slightly twitched but he was largely unmoved.
“Didn’t you find that funny?” I asked, incredulous that he had remained almost straight-faced.
“Mildly” was his reply. He went on to explain to me that I had an Australian sense of humour and laughing at pain and other discomforts humans experienced was a large part of the Australian humour psyche.
It set me thinking about humour. British humour is quite different to American humour. I recalled that many of my friends did not like my husband, because of his sense of humour, until they got to know him. They thought he was being “nasty” to me. I also recalled that some Scottish friends said after a night out with us “…. it was so good to have someone else who understands our humour.” I would say that British humour is very much self-deprecating, sarcastic and taking the piss, usually cleverly with words with understated actions. When I started going out with my husband he used to complain that I did not tease him, pull him up on his shortcomings. He reads the Guardian and rolls around laughing; when he reads the article to me I often don’t see what he’s laughing at.
American humour seems much more upfront and politically correct. I often feel I am being told what I am to laugh at in television programmes. Humour often revolves around those accidental trip ups, minor accidents. Not quite slapstick but on that side of things. Mind you Seinfeld and Frasier I found truly funny.
So where does Australian humour fit? Somewhere between? Perhaps there are many different types depending on your heritage. My father was a minister with a great sense of humour. He taught me that only the insecure can’t laugh at jokes about themselves and things they believe in. (I’m sure he would draw the line at some jokes). There was no political correctness in our household.
In the Scientific American http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=ask-the-brains-why-do-we-laugh William F Fry gives three scientific reasons for laughing when someone hurts themselves. Briefly they are:
1) it is in a play frame and there are no serious consequences come from it.
2) that it is unexpected in the context.
3) that our neurons illicit a mirror-like response which makes it funny.
So why didn’t my husband laugh? Surely it must be due to where his sense of humour came from. Or do I just laugh easily? Did you find the video funny?
“laugh and the world laughs with you”
(the challenge stated we had to have images and it seems I am the only person that laughs and has their photo taken.)
“ JUST FOR FUN”
The face is the symbol that brings back memories of an amusement park that was “just for fun.” Built at the base of the Sydney Harbour Bridge in Milson’s Point in the 1930’s, it became an immediate success when it opened. During the Second World War it was a place where serviceman took girls on dates and picked up girls. It developed an unsavoury reputation during this time as it attracted prostitutes for the servicemen and it was not uncommon for fights to occur between the American troops on R & R and the Australian Home Forces.
In the 60’s, when my family visited the park on our trip to Sydney for the Christmas School Holidays, the park had extensive renovations carried out and much new equipment was in place. From the minute you walked through the face’s open mouth the fun began. The Rotor was a particular favourite of mine. It was a round tube which slowly started to spin whilst the rider stood against the wall. The spinning became faster and faster and as the centrifugal force held you against the wall the floor dropped away leaving you stuck on the wall some considerable height above it. People would squirm and try to move their limbs from the wall but only a few managed to do anything more than lying on their side. I was later told by a worker that under the floor was putrid with vomit and much money lay buried in it having fallen from people’s pockets who had managed to move.
My other favourite rides were the ghost train and the upside down house. I obviously liked spinning things. The ferris wheels I could manage but the Big Dipper and the mighty mouse were far to frightening for me so I ate fairy floss whilst my brother and father went on these rides. The big dipper was built into the side of the rock cliff and just looking at it from the ground was enough for me. Coney Island had the big slippery dips, an obstacle course to get in complete with jets of air that would lift a lady’s skirt, spinning tops and mirrors that made you look quite deformed.
My memories of Lunar Park are all pleasant, it was an eagerly anticipated night out which for us was “just for fun.” In 1975 when the ghost train caught fire killing six children and one adult memories of a different kind were made. Luna Park was immediately closed and dismantled. The face was saved.
Although I believe it is now open I am not sure what it is like since I haven’t visited since the 1970’s. That iconic face is still visible from the water and it still looks like fun.
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