Having recently read a post on one of my favourite blogs I was inspired to consider the effect of colour on my life. That incredible elevation of spirit at the sight of a crystal clear sea reflecting the light of the sky diffusing blue across the spectrum of sea and sky, the lush greens of the tropical wet seasons, the red ochre and yellows produced by certain roots to create pigments that colour those beautiful woven baskets and dillibags.
The blog post I was reading referred to the colour blue. And the extraordinary efforts and experience required to create a lasting pigment that could be applied to surfaces and leave an enduring impression of the magnificent hue.
A couple of years ago I was introduced to a flower that produces the most vivid blue when added to warm water. Though the colour does not hold like a paint, it can create a wonderful effect in drinks. The flower Cliroria ternatea has been used as a food die in India and applied to rice on special occasions.
The flower is supposed to increase fertility in women.
This weekend we had a party for my flat mate so I went out to some local bushland where the plant grows wild.
We used the edible flowers to decorate deserts and colour drinks. Below are some images of the flower diluted in warm water. The variation in colour is the result of acidic licuid such as lemon or lime.
Well this isn’t my post about life as a non indigenous dilettante living on Larrakia land in the Northern Territory… No you’ll have to Wait for that enlightened piece of politically incorrect reflection to emerge…
The title for this post is the name of my blogger page where all my other stuff is kept. I haven’t written anything there since I was convinced to shift to WordPress… Nearly a year ago. I figured I’d share the link here so it doesn’t get completely forgot!
I woke this morning after a weird out of sync weekend, and I just couldn’t adjust to this time or space.
So many particles of various lives collided over the course of three days. Obligations, activities, people, places, things that needed to be done (or at least I thought they did). No time to be, me. What particles of this event between waking and sleep actually ‘is’ me? I?
Amid all the miss-adventure I managed to ride in the rain with a friend.
We watched an enormous storm cloud engulf the coast, felt the rush of wind, sensed the darkening sky, there was a light show at the centre of it all and before it, a clear blue sky! We watched the lights and waited O the thunder! We cycled along the edge, between hell and Highwater electrified and ecstatic. We howled and yelped as the rain came down. Blessed in the soaking delight of tropical rain.
During the modern era of pandemic and disease the healthy ones, the lucky ones don’t know how close we are to the poison edge of a virulent disease.
We long to travel like in the old days when countries and state borders had become little more than lines on a page.
At this time last month I started my journey, flying to my family in the south, visiting the apple Isle, stopping over in the city of churches and driving gallantly across borders with the net of possible quarantine closing around me quickly.
Only a fool with unearned privilege would think it ok to attempt such an ambitious crossing of borders. I took, the chance and made it through.
Saw family and friends, covered distances that have once again been relegated to unnecessarily far. What a joy it is to come and go. To Roll.
There has been no reason for my absence from this space. It would have served me well to write. Instead I submitted to the demons in my head and black dog visited me each night in my bed. Grim days of despair and fitful rage eventually I was brought a little closer to truth, to reason to happiness…? I suppose.
When once again I surrendered and cried. Enough!
So from the delights of morning rides to the madness of my office chamber, sleepless nights, angry and confusing days. 2020 was quite a turbulent year.
It’s funny though, how all things pass. Whatever it was that drove me mad on a previous day, or week or for months without relent suddenly are past and today is, another day.
A different day… Oh what a day. When I shaved off my beard and shaved off my hair, I caught a look at the busted-arse man in the mirror, hah I smiled… What drift was I supposed to catch? What way to find or message to get. What did I learn?
There are cobwebs in my ears and dust in my eyes. But even in agitation… beauty emerges triumphant, a kiss on the forehead for an aching mind. Stone ballast of my soul, righter of ways.
Here’s a few photos, in no particular order for no particular reason except that they were and I was and we yet remain for this breath in time.
It’s July… the middle of the dry season in Darwin… borders were closed for a few months due to the Covid-19 pandemic… We had zero cases for several weeks. This is the height of the tourist season but Darwin was quiet… all large scale public events had been cancelled. We had the place to ourselves, it was nice. I quite like the peace and quiet.
I have been house sitting at a lovely place with a garden, life has been sweet and slow.