Posted in Fifty words, Tapitallee tales
20 September 2020
Looking for the river we drive to Bangalee Reserve, then follow a sign beckoning, ‘Start of walk’. Past an ancient forked bunya pine, with razor-tipped leaves. Slabs of cliff hold rock orchids in flamboyant bloom. Palm trees and stinging trees in sheltered pockets. Views of the river ebb and flow.
Posted in Fifty words, Tapitallee tales
19 September 2020
Fairy lights and swathes of material have transformed the old green shed, now fit for a celebration. Plates of food make way for guitars and singing. Jenny will only dance to Dancing Queen so here it is. John jumps up for Jumping Jack Flash. Not bad for an old guy.
Posted in Fifty words
18 September 2020
It’s a good day for curling up in bed – damp, soft grey sky – and the sea-eagle chicks have nestled down. Just when you think the white one has finally dozed off it scratches itself, or cleans under its wing, jostling the darker one, making it wriggle irritably in its sleep.
17 Thursday Sep 2020
Posted in Fifty words
17 September 2020
Bundanoon is beautiful with opulent magnolia and pink-tinged snowy-white blossom. Waving yellow wattle and delicate droops of sweet pea. I push the pram into the butcher’s shop as a passing woman wearing an ankle length wrap of finely-woven wool articulates to her companion, ‘How did you discover this little place?’.
16 Wednesday Sep 2020
Posted in Fifty words
16 September 2020
I knew, even as I chopped the carrots, that they were a mistake. They would turn my dinner into a mess, diluting the flavours with their lumpy blandness. Suddenly I understood why my daughter had always picked the carrots out of stews. But I kept chopping, and added them anyway.
15 Tuesday Sep 2020
Posted in Fifty words
15 September 2020
The swimming lesson has moved to the other end of the pool. I sit on raked steps to watch my grandson. Behind the blue and white lane markers two women walk, as stately as cruise ships. Behind them, a turbulence of aquarobics. Behind that, a stretch of shimmering, unruffled water.
14 Monday Sep 2020
Posted in Fifty words
14 September 2020
Day twenty-five of my fifty days. What to write about to celebrate this auspicious moment? Being a great-aunt, the mystery of dust, the sudden shaft of western sun falling on the house across the street? Or maybe it’s time to consider the fast-approaching milestone of one million deaths due to
13 Sunday Sep 2020
Posted in Fifty words
13 September 2020
A woman near the markets is wearing a shirt that says ‘Sunday’. Recently I bought some soft white sheets, on sale, called ‘Sunday sheets’. I think I get the allusion, but I don’t think either of us – she in her shirt or me in my sheets – is living the dream.
12 Saturday Sep 2020
Posted in Fifty words
12 September 2020
My friend from primary school days messaged me this morning. Usually she’s found an old photo of us, usually playing with our guinea-pigs. This time it’s to say her partner has taken a turn for the worse. The palliative care team is looking after him at home, beautifully, she says.
11 Friday Sep 2020
Posted in Fifty words, Tapitallee tales
11 September 2020
I should sit on a rock in the bush more often. Below me, a tiny purple orchid. Around me, a grass with a spray of yellow flowers like a constellation. A swelling banksia flower, yellow as butter inside, hooks of fiery red. Fresh leaves at the base of a eucalypt.
Kathy Prokhovnik 