Pic by Gemma Wiseman
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This strange, fox-like animal is wandering into our garden in the Dromana Hills, Mornington Peninsula.
The animal has pronounced, dark markings round the eyes, but most remarkable is that the back appears to be striped and then the rear quarters appear hairless!
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Today, around 11am, I took these photos from my back verandah, which is well above the ground, and I am looking into a neighbour’s back garden with my camera lens on full zoom.
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The animal appeared to be making a rather disturbing, loud spitting sound ~ a bit like clearing large spittle in the back of the throat.
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And the animal could have been eating. I could hear a crunching sound in between spitting sounds.
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Wild mangey stranger
Unwelcome cold intrusion
Eerie predator
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Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Dromana pier in summer sunlight ~ Mornington Peninsula
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It was mentioned on the news recently that, with the incoming tides of economic pressures, more people are not leaving their home country for holidays. Some are not even leaving their state. And if it’s summmer, (as in Australia) they simply drive to the nearest beach. Many are discovering the delights of their nearest beach for the first time!

And so, to begin 2009, a new word is bubbling to the surface ~ “staycation”. (The recent news item used this word a number of times.) Will it pass into popular usage? Will it survive and be recorded in the legendary halls of the Oxford or Macquarie (Australian) dictionary?
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Holiday at home
Discover the lights in shades
Bliss of staycation
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Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ My treasured fairy now hangs from the back verandah railing of my new home in the Dromana Hills, Mornington Peninsula
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STRANGE, MAYBE SYMBOLIC CIRCUMSTANCES

* 2008 began with the death of my mother at the end of January. I felt not sadness, but a sense of relief, a kind of release. For too many years I agonised over pleasing her but always failed. She forgot about me for some years and just lived in her own world with my brother who had some mental problems. He finally left her in a nursing home and simply disappeared. I do not know his whereabouts to this day. (That’s a very short version. I won’t dredge up more painful details!)

* 2008 ended with the death of my ex husband, the father of my children. His cancer was only discovered earlier this year. His 4th wife wanted to go to Indonesia to see her family for Christmas. They left Australia on 15th December. Oddly, that was the day I moved with my beloved partner to our new home. And my ex died on 30th December in Indonesia. (Another strange circumstance ~ My daughter and son needed to organise funeral arrangements and the only office open on 31st December was in Camden, where we all used to live as a family until my ex took flight with his next new love.) Once again, I felt no seering sadness. Just a sense of more relief, as if finally I really do have a new, promising world ahead.

* My partner has cancer and cannot work. Yet he lives on. He was very stressed and often flared with anger during the house move. I was so worried. And now, he seems content, relaxed, happy.

* The new home seems to have a special magic. I believe in angels is a sign on the lounge room window. The house seems deliberately designed closely following feng shui principles. There are old prayer flags strung beneath the back verandah. The garden is wild and overgrown, but, with a little trimming here and there, we have discovered plants long hidden ~ like a beautiful lavendar bush. The skies are big and high and always mystically changing round this mountain retreat. The waters of Port Phillip Bay are great for dreaming.

Already, I long to own this home. It feels so right.

Where a fairy swings
Delighting in new vistas
Magic harmonies
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Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Moody, restless morning at Mornington, Port Phillip Bay
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The soul feels a little hollow
Maybe stormy
When it is time to move on
Not by choice
But another’s circumstance
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There is a real urge
To reach for
Some magic wand
Some mystical
Calming
Instant
Resolution
Beyond the fripperies of
Packing boxes
Secret dust behind furniture and
Masking tape
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The pale frowning greys of a Mornington morning
Some months ago
Somehow haunt me
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Silhouettes of piers
Steering toward open waters
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Silhouettes of leafless boughs
Stabbing some substance into the swirling grey air
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Silhouettes of naked masts
Spires marking boats going nowhere
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Silhouettes
Silhouettes
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I am like a silhouette
Steering into the mists
Stabbing my substance
My identity
On pale worlds
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Wondering
Hoping
Maybe believing
Finally
It must be time for
Some sunlight
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My miracle
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P.S.This is just a momenatary lapse! It is rainy and cold and windy outside right now! Where is Spring? Perhaps the odd weather sets this mood! And as I see the moving boxes piling up, I am not really worried so much about the change, it is more the ongoing battle trying to afford this enforced move. (The owner of this house wishes to move back in, so my partner and I must move by Christmas!) I guess I should always keep in mind, that when a door closes, somewhere there is an open window!

Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Strange sunlight effects pre-sunset colours, Arthurs Seat, Mornington Peninsula
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A dreamer on lights and shadows
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Greyscale ambience
Laden with questions
Fueled by
Oatmeal
Prawns
Strawberries
Chocolate
And
A hint of passionfruit yoghurt for
Healthy decadence
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I wonder ~
Is the best
Philosophic moment when
Some golden sun
Wanders into
The mystic realms of
A silver moon
Embroidered
Hazed
Maybe
Begrimed with
Silken weaves of
Smoky cloud
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Sometimes
Harvesting the feeling of
Being a philosopher is
Better than
Pretending
To be one
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Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Old, old house at Red Hill, Mornington Peninsula
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For more pics + poetry of this house, see my No Barbed Wires on Gemma’s Greyscaleterritory Poetic Songlines
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Perhaps
I may look
A little tired and worn
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Rain eases the dust in my rooms
And my rusty tin roof
May enjoy a spin with
The next gust of wind ~
But I am happy here ~
Happy
To dream of other days
When the windows were clear
And the door opened
O so easily
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And I still have some wood ~
Some chopped wood ~
Waiting
Patiently
By the porch ~
Waiting
For someone
To light my fire
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Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Beautiful light under Dromana pier at low tide
Another pic is on my Gemma’s Greyscaleterritory Poetic Songlines
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Beneath the walkway
Tides of secrets ebb and flow
Atlantis dreaming
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Subtle watermark
Limpid spirit of being
Like a breath dealing
A deck of open questions
Rented space in liquid time
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Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Old shed at Dromana, Mornington Peninsula
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To a new generation
It is just
A peeling past ~
Like blurred
Ruptured landscapes
Discordant with
New lifestyles
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But for someone
It is still
A sacred
Glimpse of
Some Eden
Still breathing
Somewhere
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Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Ice outside and fire inside
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Today was a day of fire and ice
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Frozen shards of water
Tumbled relentlessly
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The only tender light was
Inside ~
A fire
Struggling to flame from
Damp wood
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Like a war of Natural wills
And humanity can only sit by
Helpless
Shivering
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Pics by Gemma Wiseman ~ Mornington Peninsula
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There are moments when
I love to imagine
Other worlds
Toned in
New hues over
Old shapes
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Where deserts are
Deserted of
Hunger and thirsts
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Where a piece of mind is
Peace of mind
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Where wars are
Raw Edens
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