Pat..

My sister Liz’s 50th birthday. We sit outside in her back yard and eat the roast lamb dinner my brother Pat has prepared.  Pat's down from Queensland for a week to help celebrate with the rest of us here in Victoria. My youngest brother doesn’t say much but he insists I sit next to Liz while he takes a place on the other side of the table, squeezing up amongst the kids and though he's hungry, I notice he serves himself last of all.



For about 15 years he works for a doctor and her husband on a property they own on the outskirts of Bundaberg. Pat's a carpenter and does maintenance work on their house and land, renovates bathrooms and kitchens, builds sheds and puts new fences around the paddocks. Over time he builds a boat for the couple which they go sailing in, all around the top end from Airlie Beach to Darwin. Pat tells me that while most builders have other tradesmen working alongside them on a site, he learns to study the clouds for company. He watches the way they form and discovers what each one means as he goes about his work. Clouds give you feelings of peace he says.



My sisters are also there for the birthday and it's relaxing just sitting outside together. Liz tells stories of the people she comes across in her work with the Salvation Army. One woman she sees each week hasn't got any friends or family and so never has visitors. "I haven't got any infrastructure" is how she puts it. When we start the meal, Liz looks as if she's about to cry. We're just so lucky she says.



As the night goes on, the sky grows dark and then lights up with flashes of storm activity coming from the north of the city. The kids are racing around the yard on roller blades, the dog- a docile springer spaniel wanders in amongst the candles placed around the paved area in a bid to deter the mossies and finds space under the table nudging at our legs. Behind us a great fat spider is spinning a web underneath a girder connecting the old stables. The kids bring out a torch from a science kit and take turns shining a spindly light on the old web-master fastening thread to thread in the warm air. Music rolls out through the back door of the house while we sit talking then the far-off rumbling of thunder begins to get louder and we think about going inside. Pat points to the sky and says the storm will pass us by.  He can see blue above the fence next door. I look over and all I see is darkness then gradually this gives way to a paler colour, an inky blue that sits above the chook shed like a brushswirl on a child's painting.



Feel the breeze he says. The wind has shifted. It's cooling right down.



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