the world is softly wet
soft shoosh sounds tinkling dripping plunking and plinking
water on metal water on earth,
water softly fielding its heavy grey skirt over our garden and forest.
the skinks are napping today,
not a day to play chasing, not a day to bite our toes.
Greg is convinced that they are getting more aggressive , he swears he was eyed off the other day.
ever since he saw a planet earth show of the komodo dragons wearing down a water buffalo on some island in Indonesia he has had a ‘thing’.
actually, it was rather gruesome
the dragons attack as a mob isolating a water buffalo and harassing it until one of them manages to get close enough to bite .
then follows a three-week period of hell in which the poor animal is inexorably poisoned becoming weaker and weaker until in the final days the dragons are circling hovering licking their chops watching and waiting .
and then they feast.
it gave us the heebie jeebies at the time especially the watching and waiting and so when Greg says he felt eyed off…..
and who is say in what direction the evolution of our skinks is going ???
they take advantage of us particularly at morning tea time on the verandah, not just eating crumbs but also having a nibble on a toe .
we get a fright let out a squeal, it runs off and pretends to do something else. is it dead skin that is so appealing, the flavours of walking or a prelude to something else?
I walked on one in the kitchen yesterday,
they blend into the colour of the floor lurking in the shadows at our feet.
I looked down and observed the tail section wriggling and twisting around with the upper part of the body missing, probably bolted off under a cupboard to lick its wounds.
I got sick of watching the jiggling around and went in and complained to John,
there are some things a girl shouldn’t have to face.
they are all over the plates waiting to be washed up sometimes even needing a hand up out of the sink
shinnying up metal surfaces is not one of their skills.
they havent discovered the kitchen table or the bench yet but lets face it, is only a matter of time.
I went to The Crossing for a deep ecology weekend with Skye and John Seed
meeting a bunch of strangers and a few good friends.
love flowed freely and generously served up in large helpings with the food honked out by the geese and teased out of exercises designed ‘to deepen our connection with nature ‘
how deep can we go??
already here we live on the margins of existence while the wallabies, oh they are so cute eat rhubarb leaves and snip our marigolds
the possums oh they are so noisy thundering along our roof
the rats oh they are eating the tomatoes
the black snakes oh they are making out again
the wombats oh they are on further construction
the rabbits oh they have found the berries
the wrens oh they live in Johns room all the time now
the flies the mossies oh just plain annoying
and wasps that build their nests in our pumps chain saws pipes mufflers the pram the recorder.
the daddy-long-legs take over our windows and the huntsman always grabbing a lift to town with me.
is this deep enough??
I am in the web of their existence while still trying bravely to eke out our food supply.
how envious I get when I see urban backyards with banana trees and rhubarb and a thousand and one veges and fruit trees with peaches and apples and plums.
we had an orchard once, it still exists down to the west of the house where we no longer venture hidden and hemmed in by the tall strong black wattles and the falling down chook yard.
sometimes the trees even flower ,sometimes they set fruit, sometime you catch sight of a loquat or a peach but then before you blink it is gone.
the grapes so lush this year, big bunches of them but before the ripening could advance it became possum central with their squabbling and yowling and feasting night after night outside our bedroom .
some nights I would wander out trying to look menacing with my witches broom and say get along you, go, only to be stared at by big luminous and dare I say it, righteous eyes.
eyes claws teeth and fur lay claim to these fruits and I had better get used to it.
so here we are, the faerie embassy ,a place where we can all live in harmony, where we listen to the voices of the wild where the wild have a voice
and their voice is loud and clear.
I want I want and ruthlessly with no thought of sharing they take and leave me the squashed skins to sweep off the verandah the next day .
I know it is up to me to find a path of communion thru this
if only I can learn to go deeper ,deeper into the connection maybe then I can forge a link of sharing in which I too eat the fruits but really we are too soft and we did offer up this place as a sanctuary .
the reality outside of this forest, outside of this haven is war , war upon all things wild.
they are refugees .
there is naught else we can do but love them in their wildness and honour them for their magnificence in Being.