A tree full of parakeets

Over the last few weeks more than 30 parakeets joyfully devoured the apples on my one, overgrown apple tree. From dawn until dusk they chatted away, filling their bellies to the point where some had trouble taking off. On the very last day, this one parakeet climbed between the window and the cat pen. It waited until I came right to the window, thanked me by dancing and left.

Stumbling into a routine

It feels as though the weeks of working at home have flown by. With all the energy gone on the rapid change of figuring out how to settle into a new routine. As things start to go back to semi-normal there has been time to write again.

Be easy on yourself

My writing routine has been a mess, but there are times when life and the little things are more important. It can be very draining adjusting to change. I have done this several times. Once, when I had to say goodbye to my healthy full-time life and acknowledge that fatigue meant fewer hours in the day. I had to reassess what was important and valued each waking hour so much more. When I have a setback, instead of getting upset I give myself the space needed to heal. Be easy on yourself at a time when we are adjusting to change.

And a possum in an apple tree

The parakeets have eaten most of the apples and the local possum dropped in for a visit. The wildlife is a welcome distraction as I work from home.

Sorting

It has been an ideal time to go through the tedious tasks. One that I have putting off for years is going through my poems. With more than a thousand, it’s easy to become overwhelmed. I have narrowed it down to three draft volumes.

Preparation

It feels greatly like a waiting game. Getting things ready, decluttering and organising. Looking back through old projects that were intended for a rainy day. I hope you are finding a way to make the most of the current situation.

Azaria Poems – one week on

It was wonderful to see a poetry book do so well upon release. On Amazon it made number 48 in the category for Australian and Oceanian Poetry. This year will mark forty years since I met Azaria Chamberlain. It is hard to believe that an event in my life affected so many.

A personal view

For me, as with many other who were at the centre of the storm the grief was unimaginable. The certainty of what we had witnessed so absolute. Yet this grief had to be relived over and over again, in the media and behind closed doors. It ebbs and flows like an ever moving tide.

Forgiveness

If there is one universal thing, we who were there forgive. There is no malice, no ill will, what was done is part of our past. Having said this, no one speaks for me. I have my own voice and forty years later it is time. After all has been said and done. I walk a path alone, one that remains unique.

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