Rolling Hills of Yellow Silk

 

Australia is a land of magical rolling hills and changing landscapes. There is a certain effort involved in finding the hidden gems that make up the towns and cities of Australia, but each hidden gem is worth the effort. The roads leading to these gems seem endless and without end, but like an oasis in the desert, small communities of humanity crop up at regular intervals. Without a doubt, all of your creature needs can be satisfied, namely cappuccino’s and latte’s at the ready no matter how small the town. Along with such creature comfort’s come friendly smiles, antique shop’s, small cafes and a comfy place to rest your head for the night.

Such a theme continues in the town’s of Dubbo and Gulgong. If you visit Dubbo, you must visit the Dubbo “jail”. This jail dates back to the turn of the century and gives traveller’s an idea of the fate of convicts who were destined to reside on the shores of Oz for the remainder of their short yet predetermined lives. That being said, in keeping with true Oz style, the performance is hilarious and at the same time educational. A perfect location to sit down, have a coffee, enjoy a bit of history and relax from the fast pace of life that exists in downtown Sydney.

Gulgong is the home of Henry Lawson. Famous poet and Australian writing icon. If you ever get the chance you must visit the Henry Lawson centre and museum in Gulgong.  The true essence of real Australia exists in the small towns and people that make up the people and culture of Australia. Gulgong doesn’t have much in terms of modern architecture but it makes up for it in small town charm and appeal. The beautiful solitude cannot be found anywhere else, and when the sun sets and twilight begins, your eyes are instantly drawn to the overwhelming beauty of the starry skies that can only be described as breathtaking in their  overall breadth and depth. The stars in the outback surpass any starry skies I have ever seen before in the world.

From Dubbo and Gulgong I made my way to Mudgee. Home of twenty or so wine cellars and endless rows of vines that create beautiful semillons and chardonnays. Mudgee is the home of fine Australia wines. If you ever  get the chance you must go on a wine tour. Of particular note is Frog Rock and Peter van Gent winery’s. From Frog Rock comes a succulent 2003 premium vintage white wine. And from Peter van Gent, a 2006 Matrix Chardonnay along with a borrowed grape from the German vine, a Muller-Thurgau 2006. Not to be eclipsed in terms of a fruity and aromatic white, comes a beautiful 2008 Mudgee Semillon from Huntington Estates.

Once a year Huntington Estates re-arranges their hard won wine oak barrels to make room for the classical sounds of a Sydney orchestra. What better way to celebrate the beautiful and sweet sounds of Australia’s best wines? Bravo I say, and if you ever get the chance, Huntington Estates Winery is a must see whilst visiting some of Australia’s best vines in Mudgee….

More wine to come…(After I sober up from being shnozelled…) Ah, Australia, how can I ever leave?

 

A Dream

 

In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth’s day-star?

Edgar Allan Poe

  

Jigsaw Puzzle

  

Your words upon the page are

jumbled,

A jigsaw puzzle, tossed and

tumbled,

And from your lips come words that

flail,

Like little boats without a sail. 

 

Yet in those words that you have

said,

Are beams of light where angels

tread,

Seeking truth from deep

within,

A place where you and I

begin.

 

For in this place of clarity,

Profound in all its rarity,

Are words to calm the darkest

storm,

With beauty and with grace they

form.

 

For endless miles did I roam,

Ah, my weary heart has found a

home. 

 

“It is said that opposite characters make a union happiest” (Charles Reade).

        

 

 

Dedicated to Anthony J.C.

 

 

 

Once

                                                              

  

Lying buried in the ground,

Below the earth so deep,

A little creature comes to life,

And wakes from weary sleep. 

 

In cycles only known to it,

Crawling forward bit by bit,

It keeps a promise to be loyal,

To miracles within the soil.

 

For only once and not again,

Like grains of sand they drift,

With a single-minded purpose,

As they seek the promised gift. 

 

For in this lifetime only once,

With wings for taking flight,

They court the precious moment,

As they seek the morning light.

 

They have waited for a lifetime,

To seize upon the chance,

To lift their wings to heaven,

For their one and only dance.

 

And in that precious moment,

When time is standing still,

They carry out their promise,

With a strong and steady will.

 

The cycle now accomplished,

Their wings fall back to earth,

A sacred circle now complete,

Unmeasured in its worth. 

 

These precious, golden moments,

Are never truly ours,

They fall away from grasping hands,

And scatter like the stars. 

 

 

The Promise…

                                                           

I am working on getting a photography album together for all of those who love photography. I must admit, I am not a very good photographer, but I am a genuine and supportive “back-seat” cheerleader for all of those who wander the planet in search of the “perfect shot”. I generally have an eye for form and structure; but lose all semblance of technique and skill when asked to perform the skill of combining an “eye” with that special attribute called technical skill.

Based on this premise,  “never the twain shall meet”. What I do best is paint, in acrylics and oil. Therefore my plan is to take some pictures of my paintings and post them onto flickr. I have been attempting to do this for the last few days without luck; so please have patience as I try to figure out how to accomplish this; given my obstinance, I shall find a way….

My paintings are rather abstract; I do not get obsessed over trying to capture the details of “real life”.  That being said, I use texture and colour to interpret the essence of reality and to construct what I believe to be a close definition of what we all see, not just a personal analysis or interpretation of our shared visual reality.

For example, I painted a picture of the family dog as he sits and looks upon a forest with some pretty wild mauve and pink colour combinations as a representation of the forest and sky. This painting hangs on the wall of my sister’s bedroom. The only kind of painting I can think of that resembles this style is Van Gogh. Imagine “Starry Night” and you might get an idea.  I too love heavy texture and colour and would rather paint with a wild hand then get hung up on minute details. I am hoping to share with you my paintings as well as the photography of a close friend, so please be patient.  

My next poem is called, “The Promise”.  Recently, I have been thinking about the “yin and yang” of relationships and the motivation that exists between men and women as they strive to form relationships that compliment the “who and what” of their being. The truth is, when all is said and done, no matter what the “outside appearance”; we are most satisifed when we discover someone with whom we can laugh, share secrets, enjoy conversation and generally have a “shared vision” for life, love and happiness. Nothing about this or the person is “perfect”, in fact, they are quite often ”imperfect”.  Thus, a dissonance exists between what we perceive as “perfect” and what is ultimately a whole and unconditional fulfillment of our needs.   

How do we know that such a person is the “lock that fits the key”?  They will love and care for you unconditionally and seek your attention and company long after others have left for more promising shores. They see in you what you see in them, a shared vision and understanding, a desire to overcome obstacles; and an overwhelming desire to be in each other’s presence, no matter what the circumstances. 

So, as I have alluded to in previous posts; we often spend a considerable amount of time and energy seeking what we “want”, but in the end, we often receive what we “need”. This what I call serendipity. We all have a need for understanding, unconditional love and happiness. This desire, if recognized, exists in us all. We are motivated to pass along what we have spent a lifetime attempting to achieve. That unexplainable and indefinable gift that occurs only once in as lifetime. That nebulous concept that is so difficult to explain but forms the foundation of life.  Without further adieu, I present to you my poem, “The Promise”. 

 

 

 

The Promise

 

Her skin is soft, pale,

and speckled,

Like the petals of an orchid,

Fragile yet strong,

Hiding the dusky stems

that nurture

the pollen,

In the center,

of a circle,

that is life.

 

With knowing eyes,

She sees though the thickness,

of his skin,

And the walls he has built,

around a soul,

that is invisible

to all,

but her.

 

She climbs easily,

over the walls,

of his garden,

To find what he

cultivates with care.

 

Climbing with ease,

She circles,

and entwines

her pale arms

around the walls,

Like tendrils

of vines,

As they seek,

the morning sun. 

 

That part of him waits

for her,

Quietly,

as roots might,

Lying dormant,

Remaining hidden.    

 

Growing there are buds,

Tightly folded,

and waiting,

For the life of her breath,

And the wetness of his lips,

against the paleness of her skin.

 

He speaks to her

about the gift,

That waits

beneath the ocean

of his desire.

Within him,

Seeking,

with patience

and love,

For what is soft

and expectant,

Folded,

yet giving. 

 

For they shall plant seeds

together,

And scatter them,

But none too far,

With careful hands,

In the soil of their

roots.

 

For he desires

the flowers,

Which remain hidden

beneath the ground,

So that he may place them

gently,

in the silk of her hair.

For they are also

part of her.

 

Their promise,

is tightly kept,

Like the leaves of the bud,

Around the stems of their flowers.

Waiting,

For the breath,

of the sun,

to awaken them.

 

He listens to her,

Eyes closed,

Comforted by her presence,

Waiting once more

to become part of her.

Seeking roots

within the soil

of their desire,

That brings life,

and feeds nations,

Forgives,

and brings faith.

 

Entwined,

Inseparable,

Expectant and vigilant,

As the seed is,

within the woman,

By this man,

With a love,

That even eternity,

cannot surpass.