reasons..

Reasons why I haven't written..
Because of Jack's will we have money to fix up the kitchen.. After 30 years of watching the pennies and five kids moving through the house there's a lot to do..

During August/September tradesmen ring the bell at 7 am most week day mornings. Probably not every day but the fact that one could come means things are out of sync.  It feels like we're living in a share house and I start putting on a dressing gown as soon as I get out of bed.. .Some are here for hours pulling out pipes or slapping on plaster and overall they're loud and funny to listen to... The plasterer gets so angry, so angry with the ceiling... He talks to it as though it could answer him back ....  And then there are the silent ones, the apprentices who hardly say a word..Awkward and sleepy looking,. I wonder how long it is since they were at school with their mates, kicking a footy at recess,  each day taking care of itself.....All past tense now as they take orders from a boss..  Builder, electrician, plumber, cabinet maker, plasterer, floor sander and the last on board is the painter who turns out to be the father of one of the children I teach. .They arrive in overalls and boots and take up their tools and do the job .. Only one is grouchy and I can't work out why until I comment to the air-con fellow who's noticed it too and thinks if might be because he's expected to do something he hasn't allowed time for.. On the way to the car we cross paths and I tell him I'm sorry if he didn't know about the job. and he says he'll try to fit it in ... The following day late in the afternoon he's back on the doorstep. I do not recognize him such is the change in his face..  He's dropped by to put in a dimmer switch and even has time to advise on another part of the job.. I'm amazed at the change in his manner. .. .I tell him he looks so different and say it might be his cap  but we both know it's not..


Ad because they're here there's no pattern about the day. I feel like I'm on duty with them. I find myself distracted from whatever it is I'm doing, just watching them work.
This is my nest after all.

After they've gone, all gone,  I discover the pleasure of painting.. walls and ceiling, architraves, skirting boards, dado, doors
One wall takes 3 days to get right. I hang up a still life by Margaret Olley when it's finished.

Perfect match with the gum green background...

the watcher..

little Paddy
old friend
lying in the sun
waiting on a word..

out there..

Yesterday I took a few pictures of the view from the sunroom window. It's the room where I write. In previous lives, angled-off by a folding door, it's been a play-room, study and when we were really pushed for space we squeezed in a mattress and base and it became a bedroom for a small boy-Michael first and  some years later, Dan.. 


I like working here. I love the way light sifts through the apple tree.. a kind of lime and yellow light  For the past year or so because of a laptop i've had to have for school, I've gravitated to other places - the kitchen table, the study (also once a bedroom) and on warm afternoons on a table out the back. .... lately, however, the laptop's been playing up and  in the last few weeks I"ve begun life anew on the computer here in the sunroom.. This desk is the place where I started taking writing seriously. The place where I began to think I could put things down a little more permanently than in exercise books and on bits of paper I carried in my bag.
Anyway after that little preamble I want to show you a photo I took yesterday..

look hard.. a fabulous lorikeet has just dropped by..