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Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

A small rural village in Queensland’s Samford Valley marks the site of our home. Here on Australia’s east coast, surrounded by two state forests and four rugged mountains, we enjoy exploring ways to engage with the beauty of our natural surroundings.

One favourite destination is a large mountain, Mount Glorious.  It rises to a height of 600 metres above sea level. In the oppressive heat of our high summer we often head to its crest and cooler temperature, where we spend a comfortable day.  Driving through the mountain’s splendid scenery we are always amazed at its abundance of native rain forest cover—mighty trees, tall palms, and numerous ferns. Flocks of tropical birds, white cockatoos, and brilliant parrots often fill the skies.

On a recent visit, a sign post entitled, The Westridge Outlook, caught our eye. Exiting onto a dirt road we followed this to a car park. Here a wide board walk, enclosed by a fence of metal railings stretched ahead. This walkway was built to encircle an immense rocky outcrop.

Strolling along we admired a mixed forest of grey gums, spotted gums and tall tallowwoods.  Long ago these original timber forests were harvested by timber cutters using only axes and cross-cut saws. The fallen trees were loaded onto wooden carts and pulled by a team of oxen to the nearest sawmill. Thankfully this deforestation was discontinued, and today its remains are protected as a reserve for public enjoyment.

Reaching the half-way mark, the boardwalk expanded into a large viewing area, to expose an open outlook. The rims of distant mountain ranges, shrouded in a blue haze, framed the horizon. We stood in awe at the view of Lake Wivenhoe, our main dam and water catchment area. The upper reaches of the Brisbane River snaked through the landscape, as the D’Aguilar State Forest spread its abundant natural beauty beneath us. It was a breathtaking sight.

   We finished our walk around the ancient rocky escarpment, to end at the point of our beginning. Hopefully other visitors will also discover this hidden treasure, and the magnificent views on offer at the Westridge Outlook.

 

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Snow bush

As our cold and windy winter settles in again, right on cue the Hawaiian Snow Bush bursts into its garment of white. In gardens everywhere this delicate shrub or small tree, the Brenia nivosa, provides us with the closest visual suggestion of snow that we could experience. Native to the Pacific Ocean Islands, its papery-thin leaves produce leaf tips of the purest white, giving the impression that the bush has been dusted with drifts of soft snow. As we follow the leaf tips down toward the trunk, its leaves beneath are a rich, dark green.

Snow bush detail 1

One may be tempted to think that the Snow Bush is covered with white blossoms, but hiding under the lower foliage nestle its tiny green flowers. Another variety of snow bush, the Rosea Picta, adds pink to the white and green foliage, leading one to a false impression of a flowering shrub. As winter progresses, the white or pinkish-white leaf tips slowly turn green. And as the Hawaiian Snow Bush loves water, if kept moist it rewards us with its beautiful disguise of winter’s snow.

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Photo/Poetry Reflections

clover

all need
these three things-
someone to love
something  interesting to do
and something enjoyable
to look forward to

I’ll be offline for three weeks as ‘hubs’ and I escape the everyday, to discover the freedom time away can bring. My next blog post will appear on September 24th.

If you are looking for interesting new short reads –  check out my Books & Articles tab.

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Recently a gift came my way – a journal filled with blank sheets of beautifully handcrafted Nepalese paper. These writing sheets—translucent and pale brown—were made from the bark of the Daphne shrub. Writing with ink on this paper is a joy as my pen glides over its surface and the ink never blurs or runs. Through this little journal, the process of handwriting on special paper was rekindled again.

My interest in sourcing handmade paper began to grow wings when I participated in a workshop that taught me how to convert plant pulp into paper. I provided plant materials—fibres, stems, and heavy leaves—that I cut up and soaked in water. Caustic soda, one tablespoon to each litre of water was added, and this mixture cooked for two hours until the material became soft and slippery. (We used an old copper boiler, as aluminium must never come into contact with caustic soda). After discarding any large plant waste, I dipped a frame (screened across the underside) into the slurry, drained it and transferred the sheets of wet paper onto a surface to dry.

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Above from left to right are sheets of paper I produced from the following:

1. Blue tinted recycled paper with finely chopped onion skins
2. Recycled paper pulp and cooked straw
3. Straw, onion skins, and plant stems
4. Bannana trash

Each paper has its own distinctive colour and thickness, perfect for: journal covers,  gift cards or tags, book marks, stationary etc. Handmade paper can be cut as there is no grain. When it is torn, a raggedy edge is produced giving it an attractive homespun look.

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Paper has a long history. Papyrus came first in Egypt around 2400 BC, and was made from sliced sections of the flower stem of the reedy papyrus plant. (See a papyrus stem and flower photo above) A Chinese courtier, Ts’ai Lun, was the first recorded inventor of paper. In 105 AD, he presented his paper making process to the Chinese Emperor, as was noted in official court records. The spread of paper from China to the Middle East, then to Europe in the 13th century has allowed for a massive exchange of information to take place, contributing to significant cultural shifts world-wide.

As our age becomes totally digitized, it is a joy to slow down and return to the simple pleasure of putting pen to paper. In some circles, the art of writing letters on fine stationary is also experiencing a resurgence. While the computer remains at the centre of my writing life, my Nepalese journal has become the repository for my short poetry: haiku, tanka and haibun. On its pages I delight in handwriting again, with pen on fine paper for my own enjoyment.

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Falling petals haiga

Today we have the opportunity to take beautiful digital photos  and to add a text directly to the images. These two ingredients allow us to experiment with an early art form known as haiga. Traditionally haiga is a Japanese invention that combines a sumi-e (an image painted with an ink brush) and a three line haiku or a five line tanka poem, hand-lettered on the same piece of paper. The art lies in the subtle relationship between the two.

page 9

The painting, drawing, or photo is not simply an illustration of the poem, nor is the poem a caption for the picture. Each element should stand alone — yet in juxtaposition, the two resonate to add a deeper and more complex meaning to the total work.

Poinsienna haiga

Drawings, paintings or photographs may be presented with little or no adjustment, or they may be manipulated until the original is nearly unrecognizable. Photographs can be used as a starting point. The text or poem can be hand lettered, scanned, pasted to the image, or applied directly using the font capability of a software program. Through haiga, the old and the new are blended into a unique, multimedia artistic experience.

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We guide our canoe through the shallows of a peaceful billabong. As the afternoon passes the water becomes as still as glass, reflecting the grotesque shapes of old rugged trees on its mirrored surface. The only sound is the gentle splash of our bow. We stop to rest—our paddles across our knees—as small droplets from the wet blades create ever-widening circular pools. Paddling closer to the edge we savour the quiet of this moment, this small gift of nature that never ceases to sustain and uplift us.

on the breeze
the distant call
of a crow

(billabong: an Australian term for the branch of a river forming a blind channel, backwater, or a stagnant pool)

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Look all about you
as far as the eye can see,
how long has it been
since any rain has fallen
on this vast, drought ridden land?

Baked mounds of earth
cross hatched up and down,
cracks deep and wide
always brown, never green
aching for the smell of rain.

Dust is in the air
swirling gold and red
wherever we step,
blowing, scattering, shifting
with every breath of wind.

Call forth a rain dance
rend the heavens with prayers,
conjure up blackened clouds
and shout aloud to all who see
our pain and despair.
Australia is on its knees again
thirsting for life giving rain.

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