Oysters and Old Rope: Tuesday’s of Texture

Posted on May 1, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
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Oysters

razor sharp

washed by water soft and warm

The rope it hangs

smooth with slime

rots.

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Fishing: 99 Word Flash Fiction

Posted on April 30, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
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The road stretched out long and straight through the desert.  Signs of civilisation  appeared. Bait 1 km. Fishing tackle Menindee General Store. “It’s hard to believe…” I stopped for now in front of me I saw a huge lake. An oasis that replaced the red sand.

“Yep, its hard to believe.” The water shimmered in the sunlight. We stopped and bought gear and headed to the waters edge. We fished all afternoon without a bite but our friendship was becoming as solid as cement.

On returning to our friend’s place he said ” Well they caught you hook, line and sinker.”

In response to Charli’s prompt where this week she asks:

April 26, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a fish tale. It can be about fishing from any angle, about those who fish, or what might be caught. Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by May 1, 2018. Use the comment section below to share, read and be social. You may leave a link, pingback or story in the comments.

If you want your story published in the weekly collection, please use this form. If you want to interact with other writers, do so in the comments (yes, that means sharing your story TWICE — once for interaction and once for publication). Rules are here.

During our early days when friendship was all there was we did a lot of fishing. Everywhere we went we seemed to pull out a line. Only occasionally did we catch anything which was very lucky as neither of us could do the necessaries to get the fish to the dining room table. We felt so guilty pulling the hook out of their mouths we really were relieved when we didn’t get a bite. The peace and calm and conversation was really all we wanted. To this day we don’t know whether Lake Menindee has fish in it or not.

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Odd Planter: Cee’s Odd Ball Challenge

Posted on April 30, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
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In response to Cee’s Oddball Challenge

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The Underground Railroad: A Book Review

Posted on April 30, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
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photo courtesy of Amazon.com

Just imagine what it must have been like to live the life of Cora, a slave girl on a cotton plantation in Georgia if I found reading it torrid and stressful. I have no doubt that the scenes described in this book happened, if not to the fictional Cora, to the real life slaves of the Southern States before the Civil War. It is hard to comprehend such cruelty given that this was such a short time ago.  Slavery was the only reality in this pulitzer prize winning book written by Colson Whitehead who created a novel way for an escaping slave to travel. Instead of a metaphorical underground railway the railway becomes real complete with station masters and engine men. This mode of travel allows the escaping slave Cora to travel to a multitude of southern states, each dealing with slavery in different ways from sympathetic to horrific. In some locations she initially believes she has found paradise only to have that illusion  tumble down around her leaving me feeling in a small way as she must have done.

Cora is a third generation slave and has never been off the plantation she was born on. Her grandmother died in the fields and her mother left her when she was ten and escaped. She was the only slave from this plantation to succeed at this and this gave Cora some purchase in the slave quarters along with her fierce determination to maintain control over her small plot that had been her mothers. When a new slave tried to take it from her to build dog kennels she attacked him. The same anger overcame her when a white man caned a black boy, she threw herself  over the boy getting the caning herself. Both child and Cora were severely punished the next day. These events led Caesar (another slave) to ask Cora to escape with him. Initially she said no but when the white man inherited the plantation she changed her mind.

To ease her restlessness she crept out to her plot and sat

on her maple and smelled the air and listened. Things in the

swamp whistled and splashed, hunting in the living darkness.

To walk in there at night, heading north to the Free States. 

Have to take leave of your senses to do that.

But her mother had.

Would I recommend this book: Yes, I would. Although I couldn’t say I enjoyed this book I couldn’t put it down either. I wondered at the relevance of it today and I think there are many members of our society that feel about African Americans as was expressed by the white people in this book. Just this morning I heard that African American babies are often born premature and are more likely to die at or near birth compared to white babies. The research being reported, although in its early stages, is suggestive that the cause of this is racism. I feel that this is a powerful book and one that should be read by everybody in the journey to overcome racism.

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Weekend Coffee Share 29th April 2018

Posted on April 29, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist

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Welcome. Come on in for a cup of tea or coffee. You are very welcome and I have most beverages. This week has been a weird week. Anzac Day fell on Wednesday and it has totally thrown my body clock out, not knowing what day it is or what I am supposed to be doing. That is because Wednesday is golf day.  I know that because Roger isn’t here and I do what I like which might be clean the house, spend hours on the computer or go out and have coffee with friends. This Wednesday we were collected at 0445 by friends to attend the dawn service in Verrierdale, a small town in the Noosa hinterland.

We arrived in the dark.

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to the sound of a solitary piper.

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People milled about. Old soldiers catching up with mates.

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The Noosa Chorale sang Amazing Grace to start the commemorations off. For those of you that don’t know ANZAC day is the day we remember our returned servicemen from all the numerous battles we have fought in and peace keeping efforts. Our sense of the ANZACs is on the first landing of the ANZACS at Gallipoli which was a bit of strategic disaster. After a campaign of 8 months 56,000 allied soldiers had been killed but the heroism of those there has been stamped into our psyche and is part of what we consider our nationhood to encompass.

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Wreaths were laid, the air commodore spoke (though I’m not 100% certain that I got his meaning ) the choir sang again, the last post sounded , a minutes silence, wreathes were laid and the ceremony finished with the Australian followed by the New Zealand National Anthems.

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In Gallipoli the ridges had been covered in Aleppo pines but the Turks had removed them to provide cover for their trenches. All that was left was one solitary pine when on the 6th August 1915 the Australians launched a major offensive on what is now known as Lone Pine Ridge.  One of the soldiers Benjamin Smith collected three of the pine cones from this solitary tree and sent it home to him Mum Jane McMullin as a memory of his brother and her son Mark who had died on the ridge. She was successful in raising two seedlings from these cones. She planted one and sent the other to the Australian War Memorial. From this seedling more pines, such as the one above, has been raised. This one was given to the Verrierdale community in recognition of the work they had done and completed for the 100th commemoration.

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After the ceremony a hearty breakfast was provided in the Verrierdale Hall.

This was the first time Muffin had been left alone at home. She had previously always had Bundy for company when we left. Our neighbours told us she howled. Not a great way to wake up before 5am. I don’t know whether it was the time of day, we’ll have to do a bit of sneaking home when we go out to see just what she is doing.

If we were having coffee I’d tell you that the weather here is just perfect. Warm during the day and cool of a night. A little wind but more like a breeze. Everybody is having a lot of fun down on the river. Now that we can again walk, we are doing long walks of a morning (around 10kms) to reach our coffee shop. This takes a huge slice out of the day but it is most enjoyable.

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If we were having coffee I’d tell you that the other thing I have done this week is buy a pushbike. I rode it home on the bike paths from the bike shop probably 7 kms away without any problem. Well that is not strictly true. I wobbled my way home. I haven’t mastered the straight line yet and I panic easily but it is just confidence I need. I have no intention of ever riding on the road so I should be fine. It is just finding the time to ride it.

So that is about it for my week. Have you read any good books or seen any films that should be seen? Looking forward to seeing how your week has been. Thank you for dropping in for coffee, it is lovely to see you. Thanks to  eclecticali  who is our host of the weekend coffee share.

Posted in Australia, daily events, photography, Weekend Coffee Share | Tagged , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Pedalling on the River: Silent Sunday

Posted on April 29, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
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Posted in Australia, Noosa, photography, Silent Sunday | Tagged , , , , , | 11 Comments

Track: Six Sentence Stories

Posted on April 28, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist

Gerard placed  the needle down on the old black vinyl Led Zepplin track Stairway to Heaven that he’d found at the market, reversing it’s tracking so that it played backwards. “Listen to this man. This is really creepy.”

They strained to interpret the words, ” Oh here’s to my sweet Satan; the one whose little [track] would make me sad, whose power is Satan.”

“Do you reckon they did that on purpose Gerard cause of all that hype about rock ‘n roll being the devil’s spawn.

“No idea mate but its the devil being in side on such a nice day, howabouts we do the foreshore track?”

Thank you to Girlie on the Edge who hosts Six Sentence Stories

Posted in creative writing, flash fiction | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Asking a Question: Three Line Tales

Posted on April 27, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
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photo prompt thanks to Alexandre Boucher via Unsplash

“Siri tell me where I want to go.”

” You were saying…… Siri cannot help with that question.”

“I traded in my semi-intelligent phone to get a smart phone that turns out to be not so smart.”

Thank you to Sonya our host for  3 Line Tales

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Skywatch Friday 27th April 2018 Tewantin 1.33pm

Posted on April 27, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
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For skywatch Friday where skies around the world can be seen.

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Conquering the Blue Mountains: Friday Fictioneers

Posted on April 26, 2018 by Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
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photo prompt © Jan Wayne Fields

The three men looked back at Gregory’s farm. Greg’s wife waved from the verandah, the smallest of his three children clinging to her skirt. He turned, brushing a tear from his eye. The pack horses were laden with six weeks of provisions and if necessary they had five dogs they could eat. The three convicts did the work whilst a fourth oversaw them. Upward they climbed through the rugged bush. The land to the west spread before them, a fertile vista, but the sheer cliffs didn’t allow them passage down yet they celebrated – they were the first to see the other side.

Thank you to Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields for being our hostess for Friday fictioneers and to Jan Wayne Fields for supplying the photo prompt.

My immediate thought when seeing this photo was of the explorers Blaxland, Wentworth and Lawson who were the first men to successfully cross our Blue Mountains in 1813. They did not make it down the other side – a chap named Evans did that in December 1813  and the three explorers were awarded 1000 acres of land each on the west side of the mountain. Wentworth wrote in his journal:

A country of so singular a description could in my opinion only have been produced by some Mighty convulsion in Nature – Those immense unconnected perpendicular Masses of Mountain which are to be seen towards its Eastern Extremity towering above the Country around, seem to indicate that the whole of this tract has been formed out of the Materials of the primitive mountains of which these masses are the only parts that have withstood the violence of the concussion.

William Wentworth

whilst William Lawson wrote:

Reached the summit of the Highest land we have yet been, … and Encamped by a fine stream of water. Here we had a fine view of all our Settlements, our progress was here stoped by an impassable Clift from going either South or West- Mr. Blaxland Wentworth and Self left our Camp with a determination to get down some parts of this broken land. But found it impracticable in some places 500 feet perpendicular here we saw the course of the Western River and that broken Country at Natai the back of the Cow pasters. No doubt this is the Remnant of some dreadful Earthquake

William Lawson, 22 May 1813

and Blaxland:

They now conceived that they had sufficiently accomplished the design of their undertaking, having surmounted all the difficulties which had prevented hitherto the interior of the country from being explored, and the colony from being extended. … Their provisions were nearly expended, their clothes and shoes were in very bad condition, and the whole party were ill with bowel complaints. These considerations determine them, therefore, to return home.

Gregory Blaxland

Thank you to Wikipedia for these diary entries.

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Earliest pictorial representation of the crossing from the Sydney Mail, 25th December 1880

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