I must be old enough.

April 8, 2015 Joanne14 Comments

My four children mean the world to me. That’s one of the most consistent things I have noticed among my blogging friends too, we all adore our “babies”. They grow up to adulthood, remaining our babies, but they never fully understanding the depth and strength of the love we have in our hearts for them. They don’t realise the lengths we would go to either, to make sure they are happy. If there is anything we can do for them, we are there. No questions asked. We would move mountains for the children we love so dearly.

Over the years of my parenthood, I have occasionally attempted to explain to my offspring exactly how I feel about them, always failing to do so successfully, and ending by telling them that when they have a child of their own, then they will understand. That’s when they will feel how my love for them feels.

I often hear of parents, when their children reach a certain age, pressuring their children with questions of when, exactly, will they be made a grandparent. I have never subscribed to this form of questioning. To my way of thinking, it hints slightly toward emotional blackmail. I want, with every ounce of mother-love in me, for my grandchildren to come along when their parents are ready for their arrival. Not when I am ready.

Before my first child was conceived, I had a little spirit child visiting me. I heard his laughter, and could smell the sweet scent of baby in my home. I knew this dear little soul had chosen me to be his mother, and when he was only a few months old, and I heard his laughter, the same laughter I had heard “before”, it confirmed for me what my heart already knew.

During the busyness of life in the ensuing years, as I have happily worn the label of Mum of Four, my instincts have, many, many times, fallen by the way-side. I haven’t stayed in tune as much with my intuition. It has only been in more recent years, as my children have grown, that I have begun again to trust those instincts, remembering the little “hunches”, heeding the words and sounds that arrive in my mind, unannounced, (like the beautiful laughter of my first child,) and noticing, and really paying attention, to the images of what is to come.

For some time now, when asked if I have any grandchildren, my standing response has been, “I’m too young to be a grandmother”, and I believe with all my heart that my statement is the truth. Only when my children decide for themselves to have a child of their own, will I be old enough.

But a few months ago, something happened. An image, which I can only liken to the laughter I once heard over thirty years ago, appeared in my mind. Two little girls, twins, with curly blond hair.

One day in particular, when walking around some land with two of my children, where one of them intends building a home of their own, I looked at a large tree, with a solid branch extending out of one side, and saw, in my minds-eye, an image of my grandchildren, laughing, and playing on a swing, which had been attached to the tree branch.

That same day, my husband was at home, gardening. And he was puzzled. He felt that there was a child with him, helping in the garden. And when he told me he didn’t know who it was, that he didn’t know of any children in the spirit world, without hesitation I told him that it was our grandchild. And he understood. It felt right.

And we suspected that there is more than one little spirit child, making their choices. A new generation is being planned.

That all happened last year. Nothing further eventuated, until a few weeks ago. As I sat at my sewing machine, meditating, as I do whilst sewing, (I don’t know how else to describe the wanderings of my mind as I sew!) I began to plan what I would make for the baby, for Christmas….meaning this Christmas….could it be….???

….and a few days later, during an emotional announcement, I had occasion to tell my child to prepare their heart for the most overwhelming, unconditional love that they could ever in their lifetime expect to feel, when they see their own child, for the first time, in November.

So, I guess I must now be old enough. 🙂

It’s still early days. An ultra-sound, tomorrow, will give the estimated due date of the little walnut sized being, who has chosen us, our family, my child, to live through a lifetime with. It will also establish whether there is just one, or two little walnuts developing.

With complete certainty, I can tell you that this little baby (or babies) is/are loved, unconditionally, completely, already. Other grandma, much younger than me, is thrilled to bits at the news as well, as are all the great, and great-great grandparents! Aunties and uncles are beaming, cousins are excited. This baby will be born into one great big bubble of love.

This baby has chosen their parents well. 🙂

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update ~ I wrote the above yesterday. The ultrasound has confirmed one baby, with a due date of November 23rd.

More to follow….much more. ❤

A Sense of Spirit · Australia · blessings · gratitude · photography · sisters · summer · unbreakable bonds

After a Twenty-Two Year Wait ~ Photos of a Pheasant Coucal.

January 10, 2015 Joanne14 Comments

“I saw the most magnificent bird on our land!”

I couldn’t wait to tell my eldest sister, who I knew to be a bird lover, about the most incredible sight I had seen. But it wasn’t just the sight of the bird that had me intrigued. The way it took off from the ground, with a massive flap, flap, flap, whilst running, using its wide expanse of outspread wings to become airborne, was completely different to how other, smaller varieties of birds took off from the ground.

“It was absolutely massive!” I exclaimed, “but with the face of a dove. The tail feathers alone must have been eighteen inches long. And the bird was predominately brown, of all colours. There was some mottling around its tail, but I didn’t get a good look at all the details. I can’t wait to see it again, it really was a sight to see, like no other bird I have ever seen before.”

My sister rolled her eyes. “Really, Jo, you do exaggerate….what did this miracle bird really look like?”

As far as my sister was concerned, I always exaggerated. If I said I was freezing cold, boiling hot, or couldn’t wait to visit mum, Anne regarded the statement to be an exaggeration. (If you were freezing cold you would be solid and unable to speak; if you were boiling hot you would be dead; and you will have to wait to see mum, but why the rush?) To my sister, I was the Queen of Exaggeration. In my eyes, Anne was a painful stickler for details.

But I knew this bird was big, and brown. It also had a pretty dove-like face. I had never in my life seen such an elaborate take-off either, thinking that all birds simply went flap, whooshka….up into the sky! This one didn’t.

Twenty-two years have passed by since that day, of my first sighting of what I now know to be a Pheasant Coucal. The next one to sight the bird back then was my husband (who hadn’t doubted my description for a minute!) We searched bird identification books, asked the locals, tried to see the bird again, all during which time my sister occasionally thought to question whether I had seen this Feathered Colossus again, using the most sarcastic tone she could muster.

After my husband had sighted it as well though, she had to accept that maybe, just maybe, Kid Sister really had seen an unusual, and unusually large bird.

During the years between building our house on our land and now, we have sighted the Coucal’s many times, but we hear them more often than see them. They are a very shy bird, nest in the long grass right down the bottom of our yard along the fence line, between us and the farm-house behind us, but we know they are there when we hear their cries, echoing through the garden. It’s a low-pitched sound, a constant “coo-coo-coo”, vibrating through the yard and around the valley. The sound is as magical as the sight of them.

Occasionally, I spot a Coucal, usually way down the back yard (we have one acre of land), or taking off in their laborious way, disappearing into the trees. Unfortunately, due to their inability to fly easily, we often see them on the main road leading to our village, victims of the cars moving faster than the coucals can fly across the road. They also walk a lot, another hazard for these beautiful creatures.

Enjoying the rain.... — Enjoying the rain….

Pheasant Coucals are members of the cuckoo family, although unlike cuckoos, who invade the ready-made nests of magpies and currawongs, Coucal’s lay their eggs, usually three to five in number, in the long grass, caring for them themselves. And according to my book, “Guide to Australian Birds”, Pheasant Coucal’s are about fifty-five to sixty-eight centimeters in length. Conversion ~ twenty-two to twenty-seven inches long.

Large long-tailed cuckoo with body black (summer) or brown (winter and juvenile) and rufous barred wings and tail. Usually seen running across roads or perched (particularly on wet days) on fence posts or dead trees near long grass; when flushed flies heavily with laboured wing-beats. ~ The Slater Field Guide to Australian Birds.

For so many years, which now seems like forever, I have tried, unsuccessfully, to take a photo of a Pheasant Coucal. Although their presence is felt, they remain hidden.

Earlier this week though, my daughter took breakfast outside, to be enjoyed in the cool morning air, just before a few spots of rain hit the ground. Before coming back indoors, I heard her calling to me, in a low, quiet, yet urgent voice. I grabbed my camera; I knew by her tone this must be important.

There, sitting in clear view, right on top of the shed, in all its glory, sat a Pheasant Coucal!

It didn’t stay there long enough for me to take a photo, (typical!) and flew down to a low tree in the garden. I sneaked around to the side of the tree, camera poised, but must have disturbed it, as it flew up into the branches of the pecan nut tree, which it seemed to decide was a safe place for its morning bath.

I took refuge from the now-steady rain, standing in the shed, happily clicking away at one of my mysterious, seldom seen, Coucals. It posed and preened, whilst I held my breath and quietly clicked. What a joyful few minutes it was.

I would like to think that Anne looked down on me from heaven, watching me with my camera that morning, in my (unexaggerated!) moment of glory.

Maybe she even arranged for the Coucal to be there for me….who knows? It’s a lovely thought, and a brilliant beginning to 2015.

A Sense of Spirit · authenticity · gardening · gratitude · photography · remembering · spirituality

My Year in Review, Through Authentic Eyes.

December 31, 2014December 31, 2014 Joanne14 Comments

A continuing joy to my every day is the visit from my feathered friends.

Deja vu closely followed the thought, “It doesn’t seem that long ago since I last decorated the house for Christmas”. I thought the exactly same thing, whilst decorating the house during December 2013. Where has the year gone?

In May, this tree flowered profusely, to the delight of both myself, and the Rainbow Lorikeets.

And now, it’s the last day of 2014, and as I ponder whether 2014 has been either a good year or bad, I realise that, for me, it has been a year of learning. Everything has happened for a reason. And I haven’t resisted the changes that have occurred, realising that I am in the right place, at the right time, and everything happens just as it should, when it is ready to happen. The way it is meant to be.

I love taking photos in the rain, the moody light adds so much warmth to the photos.

I re-read my first post of this year, remembering, as I have continually remembered throughout 2014, my chosen word for this year ~ “Authentic”.

I have planted a lot of old-fashioned hydrangeas in the garden this year.

We are old friends now, this word and I. At the beginning of the year, I felt their presence constantly. We had to get to know each other; we were virtual strangers, passing each other throughout my life thus far like ships in the night.

Cockatoos visited my garden on the morning of my birthday in May, when my dear friend, Keith, was visiting Australia and staying with me and my family for a few days.

Oh how I had wished to jump on board that ship! My authentically beautiful friend must have known the feelings and longings of my heart, as this year, they did not give up on the hopeless cause of this mere human, filled with faults and uncertainties. No, this year, when the ship of authenticity drew up beside me, and threw out a life-boat, with just a molecule of trepidation, I dragged myself into the calming warmth of their being. And how quickly we noticed the way we could co-exist, half way between my physical life and the true soul of my inner being.

I have decided that Allamandas are the single most photogenic flowers in my garden.

In contemplating a new word for 2015, I feel myself continually pulled toward my Authentic self, not wishing to leave this relatively new friend behind, as I venture into another year on earth. And whilst I know that my Authenticity will continue into tomorrow, and all the other tomorrow’s that in my life I will enjoy, next year will see a progression of my new-found contentment. What that word will be, as yet, I do not know. My word is still searching for me. Authenticity is screening every word that crosses my path, so when my word arrives, I can feel assured that the right extension of this year has found me.

When I added a hanging basket to the back veranda, a Noisy Minor thought the basket insert would be just the thing to add comfort to her nest.

As I cast my mind back over this year, the day before it changes its status to “last year”, my first thoughts are of Tess. Her gentle canine soul has warmed my heart during so many moments this year. I still feel the sting of tears when I remember her physical presence is gone, even though my Black Velvet girl sits beside me as I remember her love and loyalty.

My Begonia sits in a pot on the front veranda, and amazes me every year, as I watch the brown soil shoot new green growth into the world! — My Begonia sits in a pot on the front veranda, and amazes me every year, as I watch the brown soil shoot new green growth into the world…and further, produce the most brilliant flowers!

I know with every ounce of love in my heart that when my next fury friend is ready to find me, she will. But she isn’t ready to come to me yet, and I believe there is a reason why this is so. This year, in September, my son Adam brought home his girl, Forrest, and whilst I love this baby girl dearly, I know she is not for me. She is a loan-puppy, just the same as Porter and Bella, who moved back home with their “parents” in August. They will be leaving again when their new home is built, and the “family of five”, which includes the gorgeous Sammy cat, will settle into their own little spot of Paradise.

Tess has her own garden now, in a shady area beside the pool. I planted a Fushsia in Tess's Garden a few months ago, hoping it would be happy there, and as you can see, it is. — Tess has her own garden now, in a shady area beside the pool. I planted a Fuchsia in Tess’s Garden a few months ago, hoping it would be happy there, and as you can see, it is.

A part of my Authentic year has kept me away from blogging. My Muse completely disappeared for a while there, although for the first time, I have consistently kept a daily diary, the old-fashioned, hand-written kind, recording events of the day, both mundane and significant. A personal record of my year, which I will continue into 2015.

Father & Son ~ The mottled Magpie is one of three baby birds I had the pleasure of hand feeding during this year.

My Muse has pulled up the most comfortable chair right now, and is making themselves feel right at home on my right shoulder, (Tess is to my left,) sharing the words and feelings that have often escaped me during this year. Will they remain? Will 2015 be The Year of The Muse? Only time will tell.

During May, I helped my son, Ben, renovate his investment unit. The Tweed River runs behind the block of units where I found a peaceful and welcome oasis from the chores.

Dear friends, as I feel my way into a New Year, I will share a small verse that I discovered the other day. The words struck a chord of love for me, as in spending the last year being true to myself, my feelings, my thoughts and desires, I have also learned to accept the flaws in myself, as well as in others. Mostly in others. Authenticity has invited acceptance into my world, acceptance of both people and events. Furthermore, a knowing that I create my own happiness, my own contentment, my own world. And so do you.

Another new plant in Tess's Garden, a sweetly fragranced Gardenia. — Another new plant in Tess’s Garden, a sweetly fragranced Gardenia.

This is ME….
I am not perfect
I live on the planet Earth where humans live
Humans are not perfect
Never have been, Never will be
So I don’t always wear the right clothes
I don’t always use the right shoes
My memory sometimes fails me
I don’t look like a fashion model
I don’t cook like a French chef
I don’t always do what people expect of me
I am human, I am IMPERFECT
But there is no one else like me in this whole wide world
I am unique, I am a MIRACLE
I am what I am
Nothing more, Nothing less
So therefore; Love me for what I am
Not for what you want me to be!
~Yvve Berglund~

Our pets live their lives true to Authenticity ~ we can learn so much from them, and they accept us, just as we are. :) — Our pets live their lives true to Authenticity ~ we can learn so much from them, including acceptance. 🙂

A Sense of Spirit · authenticity · Changes · friends · gratitude

A week has passed….

January 25, 2014 Joanne9 Comments

Wednesday's Sunset. — Wednesday’s Sunset.

A week ago today was a very different day to this Saturday. I can’t say that it has been the easiest week I have ever lived through, but I have survived, albeit with a hole in my heart where by beautiful Tess once lived. I simply can’t bring myself to write about the day again. On Sunday last week I added a brief summary of events to my blipfoto journal ~

“And so a new day begins, without our beautiful girl and the house and garden seem so quiet and still….

Josh, a close friend going back to childhood days, of my son Ben, who is now a vet, came to our home and helped Tess to end her suffering. We took her to a place in the garden where she loved to sit, an area of lawn near to the pool, and she lay there quietly as if she knew what was to come.

Josh was a God-send with his gentle voice and manner. Tess’s acceptance of what was to be, and being there with my two sons and husband as Tess gently closed her eyes was a beautiful end to our dear fury girl’s life. Tess now joins our other fury friends, our three other dogs, Sire, Bear and Nellie and our cat, Sunny, in the pet graveyard, in the garden beside the pool.”

The next day, we bought an azalea, and this is what I wrote on blipfoto the following day ~

“The back garden is so big and empty today and the veranda, where Tess’s bed once lay with her on it are both gone. And my mind has gone to mush. Even as I dressed myself this morning, I thought, “the last time I wore these clothes, Tess was still with us”. I know, it’s pathetic, and I have sewing to do for children who start back at school next week. What will the children wear to school if I don’t pull my finger out and get sewing?

I know this mopey feeling will pass. It’s just all so new right now, not having her around…

Yesterday we went looking for a plant to mark her grave and found a very pretty Azalea. Her grave is in a shady area, not far from two frangipani trees, so it will be a very lovely area when the garden there is completed.”

I wrote these two passages on the day that they happened and I still ache inside as I re-read the words I wrote. I simply cannot write new words, so I hope you will forgive me for taking the easy road and adding what was already written.

But life goes on….my grand-puppy Bella, a gentle and affectionate Border Collie, has spent some days with me this week. She is a beautiful companion and she has made me laugh so many times. Bella being here has shown me that their is life after Tess, that I can love again.

Already, I know who my next puppy will be and I know her name. I see her face in my mind’s eye. She will find me when the time is right, but that time is not now. I think she will find me in a few months time, after my still-raw wounds of the heart have been given some time to heal.

My word for 2014 is Authentic. I could pretend that I’m feeling just fine, but in keeping with my word, I can’t, I wont pretend. I know that we made the right decision to let Tess sleep, that she is now running around the big field in the sky with her friend Nellie and that we will meet again one day. But it still hurts to lose her. I need time.

I thought I was okay, but my eyes are welling with tears again as I type. I know this will pass, but obviously there are still a few more tears that need to escape my eyes. When I think of all the kind and comforting messages my blogging and blipfoto friends have left me during the last week, again my eyes fill with tears, but tears of a different kind. These tears are those of gratitude for the kindness shown to me by so many people, people who I have mostly never met in person, yet I have been enveloped by hugs of kindness through the internet waves.

Thank you, my friends. ❤

Rest well, my Tess. ❤

Australia · blessings · Byron Bay · daughter · gratitude

Byron Bay Lighthouse

January 10, 2014 Joanne17 Comments

“Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page. Take up one hole more in the buckle if necessary, or let down one, according to circumstances; but on the first of January let every man gird himself once more, with his face to the front, and take no interest in the things that were and are passed.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher.

The rocky cliffs heading down to the sea, but where are the mountain goats?

I came across the quote by Henry Ward Beecher recently and thought it to be very sound advice, especially so if you wish to forget anything that has happened in your past life that has caused you pain.

The old lighthouse keepers house, now a museum.

Well, as much as I wish to follow Henry’s advice, I’m not ready to do so yet, as I have something wonderful to share with you all today, and it happened last year! But do note that I used the word “wonderful”, it was an exciting day at the time and I’m excited to be sharing the event with you now.

Rooms now display old photos and information of interest from the days of old.

My baby girl Emma and I love browsing around markets, especially markets selling alternate, but good quality wares. We had heard a whisper that the market at Bangalow, about three-quarters of an hour drive south and held on the last Sunday of each month was such a market.

Two Estuary Cod fish.....No, wait, isn't that Emma?! — Two Estuary Cod fish…..No, wait, isn’t that Emma?!

I’ll have to write another post about the market itself, as to combine two destinations into one story would be way too long, as Emma and I met a couple of interesting characters at the markets, whose stories are worthy of sharing.

Can you imagine waking up to this view at your front door every day? That's what the lighthouse keeper used to do! — Can you imagine waking up to this view at your front door every day? That’s what the lighthouse keeper used to do!

Today is the story of the lighthouse, at Byron Bay, situated on the eastern-most point of Australia and just a hop, skip and a jump from Bangalow, where Emma and I went to have lunch after we had finished the rounds of the market.

Some info for those of you who like to know the actual factuals.... — Some info for those of you who like to know the actual factuals….

The weather of the day was warm, but not the ridiculously unbearable humidity that we sometimes suffer through during the warmer months here. The sun blazed away in the blue sky and all was well with the world.

The room just nside the downstairs of the lighthouse, where people can wait, "patiently!" for the next tour to the top.... :) — The room just inside the downstairs of the lighthouse, where people can wait, “patiently!” for the next tour to the top…. 🙂

Since my childhood days I have visited the lighthouse at Byron Bay. It’s a beautiful area and the point where the lighthouse is located holds magic in the air. There used to be wild mountain goats grazing on the steep inclines leading up to the lighthouse but I didn’t see any the day Emma and I were there. I think Emma thought I’d gone a bit potty when I told her to look out for the mountain goats! Sadly, we didn’t see any.

More actual factuals, this sweet little building was built in 1901. In the displays they even have the original plans of the two buildings.

Every time I have been to the lighthouse I have wanted to go inside. I became even more fascinated by the interior’s of lighthouses during the days when my children were young and loved watching a TV show called “Round the Twist”, based on books written by Australian author Paul Jennings, where the Twist family lived in a lighthouse. Strange events took place in and around the lighthouse, with a magical and sometimes supernatural slant, all of which had me riveted to the TV set as firmly as my children were, to watch the show.

And this would be the door to the inner sanctum, the door I have dreamed about walking through, closed.

The Byron Bay lighthouse has never, not once, in all the years I have visited, been open to the public, but lo and behold, on this fine Sunday afternoon when Emma and I arrived there, it was open! Oh joy of joys, I could finally go into the lighthouse!

But wait, today they will open this door! Things are looking up, my friends! — Today they will open this door! Things are looking up, my friends!

“All who joy would win must share it. Happiness is a twin.” ~ Lord Byron quote ~ 1788-1824.

Is this really happening? Yes it is, I'm inside the lighthouse! — Is this really happening? Yes it is, I’m inside the lighthouse!

But wait, it gets even better….one of the friendly volunteers asked if we would like to go on the next tour, to the top of the lighthouse! Would I what!! I must admit that I think I may have heard a slight groan from Emma, when she found out that to be on the next tour, we would have to wait for nearly an hour. Hadn’t I waited for her to finish her ballet classes for eight whole years? Hadn’t I ferried her to friends houses until she was old enough to drive herself? Hadn’t I done so with barely a single complaint uttered? Now it was my turn for some fun; I made her wait. There were no further groans.

I admired and photographed it all, every single nut and bolt I could see. Okay, maybe I missed one or two nuts and bolts, but wow! :) — I admired and photographed it all, every single nut and bolt I could see. Okay, maybe I missed one or two nuts and bolts, but wow! 🙂

I should have counted the stairs as we climbed the course to the top, with me leading the way, but I didn’t. My camera was too busy clicking away at every turn in the stairs, at every flat platform, at every window, at every nut and bolt in the wall. I had waited for this day for a lifetime and I didn’t want to miss a single detail. It didn’t disappoint.

Here lies all of the gadgemetry to project the beams of the light, right up at the very top of the inner sanctum.. — Here lies all the gadgemetry to project the beams of the light, right up at the very top of the inner sanctum..

“Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops at the shore.” ~ Lord Byron ~ 1788-1824.

Here stands "Emma the Brave" casually posing for a photograph on the lighthouse balcony, as my legs go to jelly. — Here stands “Emma the Brave” casually posing for a photograph on the lighthouse balcony, as my legs go to jelly.

The top of the lighthouse was really fascinating and our friendly guide knew all the ins-and-outs of every specific mathematical detail there was to know about the structure of this fabulous creation, all very interesting on the day, however I’ve forgotten most of what she told us. I was there for the feel of the building, the magic of the area, the stories of the lighthouse keepers, the sounds of the ocean and the joy of the people who shared the tour to the top with us. Those feelings remain.

Realising that I couldn't live in the lighthouse, we headed down. Such opportunities must remain with the fictitional characters in children's TV shows. — Realising that I couldn’t live in the lighthouse, we headed down. Such opportunities must remain with the fictional characters in children’s TV shows.

At the very top, I wimped out. I go jelly legged at heights and as much a I would have loved to have gone out onto the very narrow balcony surrounding the top edge of the lighthouse, I declined the offer. Well, I did venture out onto the balcony for two seconds, whilst holding the door and not looking directly down, and I even considered letting go of the door and walking a few steps along the balcony….it ended at mere consideration and I stayed inside. Maybe next time.

"Hello down there!" This young man was chastised by his father for holding up the trafic. I assured him that I didn't mind and that I had taken his photo. :) — “Hello down there!” This young man was chastised by his father for holding up the traffic. I assured him that I didn’t mind and that I had taken his photo. 🙂

And there will be a next time, Emma and I have decided, and we will be taking my other daughter with us when we go. This much magic needs to be shared. 🙂

And the journey down the stairs continues. I didn't count the stairs on the way down either.... — And the journey down the stairs continues. I didn’t count the stairs on the way down either….and my legs again turned to jelly when I learned over the balustrade to take this photo!

“Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.” ~ Lord Byron ~ 1788-1824.

The Beaming Lighthouse. — The ~~Beaming~~ Byron Bay Lighthouse.

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