The Nature Show

My shoes sink slightly towards the gravelly edge of a red muddy beach. It’s where the bitumen road disappears under the floodplain giving life to this red-dust riddled land. The water mirrors the early morning’s azure blue sky, casting the illusion of an inland sea saturating the wilderness. Where, like a tattered crochet blanket, contrasting plates of green water lilies and beads of white, pink, and purple flowerheads open to greet the sun’s new day.

The scene was so serene at first glance.

But on closer inspection…


Imagine a musical Broadway production going through its final preparations before the show begins. Showgirls, dashing between costume changes are the bright colourful Rainbow Lorikeets and Ring-necked Parrots darting across the water. Egrets stretch their legs like perfectly poised ballet dancers. And looking every bit the musical Conductor overseeing his orchestra in a rich navy plumage is the statuesque Jabiru wading on the water’s edge.  There is a low humming of instruments being fine-tuned by the assorted bugs and beetles, as the Choir warms individual choruses via differing fly-by flocks. Lastly, the hidden stage technicians lurk beneath the water, being the Crocodiles, Barramundi, and long-neck turtles that silently direct stage props and actors to their places.

 I  flick my fishing lure into the water where the road disappears into this tropical oasis that only occurs a few months of the year. Standing there, as the sun creeps higher as the only spectator, I can’t help but enjoy the show.

(250 words)



Morning After the Storm…

Craning my neck back, halting in my step, looking up at the clear blue sky. It’s so clear, clean and crisp. With wisps of white clouds floating like threads of silk, accentuating the different colours of light to deep glorious blue. It’s so mesmerizingly perfect.

You’d think it’d been years since we’d seen a blue sky.

But the storm hit so hard last night it rocked the house – literally. Glass windows rattled in their mouldings. The roof seemed to groan under the pressure. Foundations slightly trembled underfoot. Our hearts pounded while sweaty palms covered our ears and our bodies braced against each roaring rumble of thunder.

Lightning crackled, you could feel the intense electricity building in the air with each pending strike. Skin crawled as the hairs on the back of the neck stood to attention. Our eyes involuntarily closed from the brilliant ‘blue’ strikes. No delicate white forked fingers of lightning with this storm. No, these powerful blue-bolts illuminated the night, creating an eerie spotlight effect. All the while praying the concentrated voltage wouldn’t hit the house.

But as fast as the intense storm struck with ferocious whipping-winds and immovable walls-of-rainwater flooding the earth –   it was gone.

Had we experienced a tornado?

No. It was just an extremely aggressive storm cell, according to the weather guy on the radio. Typical for this time of the year.

Craning my neck I watch the perfect ‘V’ formation of the large, black and white Magpie Geese. About thirty of them, gliding in the sky, heading further inland to the wetlands close-by. Having sheltered here the night, they did well to hang in those trees, considering the number of fallen branches that lie scattered beside their trunks.

Imagine their aerial view, seeing the remnants and the destructive path of last night’s storm?

Nah, you don’t want to know. Blissful ignorance is best. You’d want to be admiring that spectacular skyline, enjoying that cooling breeze, inhaling that fresh clean air.

Because it wouldn’t be long and the humidity will be back biting-like-a-bitch. Already feeling that temperature rising. Watching the clouds building on the horizon. The storms will be returning and the promise of a monsoon not far away.

Sadly, too-soon, destroying the serenity, would be the sounds of mowers waging war on the ever-growing grass or you’d hear the ear-splitting whine of chain saws slashing through fallen tree limbs.

All so typical of the ‘Wet-Season’.

But right now – this early morning, after that storm, this moment is a pure peaceful piece of paradise.

One Eyed World of Wonder.

From slumbering darkness, I’m whipped into bright light and warm air – but where?

In the car, balancing on the steering wheel, we’re roaming a new road. Be it dirt, sand, or asphalt, I’ve been there, crossing countless kilometres, to scan sunsets, sunrises and storm clouds. I’ve felt the wind, the smog, and arid desert dust, and sweltered within the humid monsoons. But nothing is scarier than to cringe against a bushfire’s slickened heat, where wounds and memories are healed within the smooth roll of cool salty seas.

I’ve faced wide-eyed green tree frogs awakening for the change of tropical seasons and kissed sand covered dog noses. I’ve flinched at a Barramundi’s watery tail-flick propelling above water-lily riddled billabongs. It was a place to track a sea eagle’s wingspan that’s mirrored across stilled waters at dawn’s first light.

I’ve been swallowed amongst the street mazes, darkened alleys, and shifting crowds. Dodged bike wheel rolls and rumbling engines. Stooped before hovering helicopters. Eyed roaring planes soaring above skeletal cranes, peppering overpopulated city skylines.

Yet, I’ve basked in this galaxy’s starlit skies of silence, while camped on secluded summits to watch the eclipsing blood moon spread shadows across the desolate outback.

I’ve witnessed weddings, celebrations, and ancient mystical ceremonies. The loud and proud singing shouts of team players. And yet, I still heard a child’s whispering wish follow a falling star.

This world contains much beauty which my owner wants me to see. As I aim, focus, snap and save, with hope of sharing and keeping what they see is true.

Then I’m shoved into darkness once again.

Brought out, stripped down. Memory’s downloaded. Battery’s re-charged. Lens cleaned. Then packed away. Ready.

And I wait.

Until my eye’s re-opened to capture another small part of this planet’s picturesque magnificence.

(300 words)

First published 20/10/2015



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