Where here there is snow and where here there is rain
where here we’ve heard either a bird or no bird
we may look to the snow or look to the rain
and ask, not both a bird and no bird are here?
Well, yes and no—not both a bird and no bird.
a fig tree in fruit—
not both a bird and no bird
to be heard
*Title is a reference to ‘Bird Song’ by Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia, upon which lyrics the accompanying haibun (or some might argue not a haibun) is modelled.
29 March 2016
1. Power mimics nature: power is a technology, and technology imitates nature. This is why the presenter on the left is the senior of the two.
2. Sensation is the unshakable self-assurance of matter; or a whatchamacallit is the permanent possibility of a thingamabob.
2.1. I know what it is but for the life of me I can’t recall it. A? No. B? No. C? No. d… e… f…
30 March 2016
3. Certain kinds of caterpillars leave a thread of silk behind for others of their kind to follow.
4. Slow shutter bokeh shows sapphire skyglow subtly streaming through leaves.
5. The little hummingbird-like bird that fed here yesterday hasn’t returned since, and won’t return today: little birds don’t venture outdoors at this hour.
6. It’s too late to wait for the world to change now. There’s not been a hint of a breeze for three days. Let’s have a looksee at what can be done here to change it.
31 March 2016
Bright and early Easter Sunday morning and the streets around Ulladulla Harbour are being closed down for parade. I spotted Priscilla Queen of the Desert and the wildlife of Madagascar waiting in the wings near the boat ramp, lots of children helping out with ensuring all of the dangly bits were firmly attached to the floats. Promptly ordered my morning coffee and escaped to the safety of Warden Head Lighthouse, away from the impending onslaught of traffic.
With camera tripod tightly hugging trig station, and being careful not to disturb as instructed, I played around with apertures and focus points while sun and cloud played spot the whale together.
A butcherbird sung me a butcherbirdsong.
This Broken Hill Park Bench installation, created by Canadian conceptual artist Sean O’Keefe, aims “to confront adults to sit as children”. The chain barricade was added later: I know this because I have seen plenty of photos of adults sitting on it without a barricade around it. So when I arrived and found that I was apparently not allowed to sit on it, I felt somewhat disappointed. I wanted to be one of those child-sized adults that this bench was designed for, but I couldn’t bring myself to break the implied rule and step over that chain despite the fact that no-one else was there. The wind had even blown a post over, so I could have stepped over the line without committing the additional sin of ‘breaking in’.
The disappointment has since faded. The barricade seems now to be a natural component of what it means to confront adults to sit as children. For example, when I was very little I tried to climb onto the stool at my Grandmother’s piano. I was promptly removed and told I was never to touch her piano.
Picture a seasonal three-line haiku
arranged in a pattern of 5-7-5.
Share the five syllables of the first line
equally amongst the second line’s seven.
Take the share held by one of those seven
and give equal cuts to all five of the third.
Now fold your three lines into two assymetrical sections,
divide the share held by one-fifth of the third
equally between the five of the first,
then one fifth of that first among each of the third,
and so on and on periodically.
Presently I must return to my kin,
for the law has decreed it to be so
my dear feathered friend.
As it will pain me to leave you behind,
for life on the wing is no place for a shadow,
so it would plague me to bring you below:
I fear if the knowledge of you became common
our prison would run out of puppets to govern.
After spending the new year’s eve and day exploring around the Murray mouth, Goolwa, Hindmarsh Island, Coorong National Park, and Narrung, I arrived back at Waikerie in the Riverland region of South Australia shortly after dawn this morning. I need to slow down for a day or two in order to take stock of where I have been and gather my memories: in fact, I’m considering abandoning the next leg to the source of the Murray River in the Australian Alps. With only one week left to spare, I suspect it will be too much of a rush job. I’ve found a handy recharge point outside the Waikerie Library, so I’ll chill here for a bit while my devices recharge and see how the day develops.
We’ve had some extremely hot and windy days of late, making daytime photography both difficult and unpleasant. The opportunities for low light photography have been great though. It is a good thing I purchased a lens suited to that purpose before I began the journey.
Wishing everyone a Happy New Year, and looking forward to catching up with your blogs when I have returned home.
Lake Bonney, South Australia
Lake Bonney, South Australia