The Puzzle

Well I've been off deck for a week, away at Lakes, but I've been working away at the puzzle that is Life on Earth. My last few posts, miserable attempts at short poetry, were the result of coin in the slot internet cafe which keyed in neatly with Maria's request to capture the moment each day in a few lines for a week. Nobody can say I'm not prepared to have a go, something which is improving as age advances, or dare I say as I mature like good wine.

We did some good work on the house. I crawled around the roof, hanging over the edge to sand, treat and patch the fascia board which was flaking its paint badly, exposing bare timber and minor rot, then going round again twice with two coats of fresh paint. Lib and Gord painted the bathroom and put up new towel rack and shower curtain rod to replace the rusty 40 year old ones.

I then uncovered some of the steel plates at the base of the poles that support much of the house, where they are bolted into concrete, and cleaned the others. Years of  corrosion from the salt air has done its damage. I sprayed these with Kill Rust Fishoilene. This may arrest or slow the process, especially if repeated annually. I felt better for having done something anyway.

Just when I was feeling good about the house I wandered over to the steel pylons that hold the treated pine logs of the retaining wall at the back, to find them rusted to paper thinness in places. This wall is about 12 to 15 feet high, (the house being on a steep hill which led to large excavation when it was built) and will no doubt begin to fall down in the not too distant future. I think it would be an engineer's job and an expensive one at that. It was too much for me to contemplate that day. I walked away trying to pretend I hadn't seen it. Lib and her sisters own the house, I'll nag them about having it looked at by a landscaper or engineer.

Life on Earth. There's always maintenance. We left the Lakes house better than we found it. Next time it'll be something else. We have to keep having a go. Perhaps that might be part of the answer to the puzzle. To try and leave everything better than when you found it, while you can. Then it's over to the next bloke.

* This I wrote Sunday and saved as a draft, as I had to rush off to be on roster at the museum. A bus load of visitors was booked and I had to give them a talk. It's been full on since we came home. Nice to be back on the walking route though. I picked a big bag of pine mushies this morning, cooked em up and had a big feed, and fridged the rest. Maybe they freeze alright cooked. We played golf at Lakes one day and Lib collected a hat full of field mushies which we had for lunch. Jod picked mushies at the farm and he and Marion ate them on Saturday night and became violently ill and rushed to hospital. Elvie had some too but didn't like the taste and threw much of them out but she was sick for several hours also. They were more domed than usual, but smelt like normal edibles and were nice and pink underneath with no yellowing when bruised. All part of the puzzle. Apparently there are thousands of unidentified species of fungi which may hold all manner of medical and pollution clean up miracles. 

Cunningham Arm

Ibis, duck, crane, mudflat
Jetstream high
deluxe cabins
satellite dishes
new cyclone wire fence

Lake Bunga

Fifty-eight swans gliding
breeze rippled lake
lone gull
dragon head tree stump
rearing overseer

Day 2

Galahs,lorikeets
Banksia cobs, Pitto berries
Australian flags, trimmed lawns
Criusers, Patrols, Pajeros
Boats, golf buggies

Lakes Entrance

Early bird call
clear eyed dogs
sharp eyes
steaming breath
Let's walk.

Hello Young Carey

"Hello Young Carey," came the familiar voice one morning earlier this week. I was tying the dogs up at the post office/ newsangecy.

It was my friend Harry, coming out the door. We met 'on the walk' years ago. A friendship grew. Harry, about twenty years my senior, calls me 'young' Carey. I like that.

"The papers are late," he said, as he walked out the door.

I untied dogs and picked up my bag pack and some local papers that stand outside. It must have been Wednesday morning. "Hang on Harry, I'll walk with you," I said, wrestling with my raincoat and backpack.

As we walked up  Main St. I told Harry I'd had a ripper weekend, I went to Wangaratta, and a Greta Football Club 30 year reunion of their 1980 premiership. It was great to see my old footy mates I explained, some of whom I hadn't seen for 30 years. As soon as I saw them, I recognized them as if no time had passed and we talked as if  time stood still.

"You'd know all about it Harry, having all those reunions with your Club 52*."

"Yes it's a great thing. Sadly many of them have passed away."

We stopped when we reached Le Soueff Rd, where Harry lives, and talked a few minutes more. We looked out over the countryside toward the Warburton ranges in the distance, still visible through the patchy mist.

"No matter how beautiful the world is Harry, and how wonderful are the trees and birds, the clouds and the rain, it's great because we share it with people. You wouldn't want to be on this earth the only human being."

"That's for sure, " said Harry.

"Have you got much on today?"

"I'm going out to the airport later to pick up my daughter coming from Cairns. She's going to a 50th birthday party next Saturday and is having a week with us. Before that I'll sit and listen to some music."

"Good on you Harry. Have a good week," I said, continuing down the hill. "I'm going on holiday for a week on Sunday,  I'll see you in a couple of weeks if I don't see you again before I go."

"You too, Carey. Have a good holiday."

Harry died in his sleep on Friday night. I learned this Saturday morning when I went into the PO/newsagency to pick up my Weekend Australian. He was 78. He worked his acre garden growing vegies and fruit and walked every morning. He was fit for his age and health conscious. Goodbye Harry. I'll miss you. I don't think I'll ever walk past Le Soueff Rd without thinking of you.

* I posted about Harry's Club 52 back in..."Happy Solstice Harry' 21 June 2006.

Lara

I met a lady today while I was walking the dogs. She lives along my walking route and I've talked to her briefly a number of times so we weren't strangers. I've talked to her husband before too. They seem a friendly couple doing their best to raise their family well. She was walking down the hill in the main street with her younger son in the pusher after walking her older son to school. I was later than usual. Lib had her eight o'clock start day so I stayed back, then waited till the washing was done with the intention of hanging it out in the strong wind. It was sunny this morning, and oddly warm, the strong wind an indicator that a change was close.
We talked about the primary school, she asked me did I have children, how old they were, and did they go to Gembrook Primary. Yes they did, I told her. They were happy times, the primary school seemed so safe and friendly. Her son laughed as Pip's wet nose touched his leg while sniffing.

She was noticably pregnant. I asked her, without considering I may have been be too forward till after I said it, "Are you expecting another?"

"Yes," she said. "Mid July." She added something like being a sucker for punishment which I didn't quite catch. I was thinking already about how happy I'd be to see her after the birth with a new baby in the pusher and I told her so. I immediately felt some excitement about it. I asked her what her name is, because until then I didn't know.

"Lara". I told her that was a great name. She's heard there was a 'Lara' in the movie 'Dr. Zhivago', but has never seen it. She said she'd get the DVD from the library one day.

I feel a bit strange getting excited about babies coming. Maybe there's a grandpa in me wanting to come out.

Blimey!