September 18, 2009 | Ronda Jambe

Under the Moruya Moon (10)

A long weekend at the coast with friends. Can’t beat that for a spring outing. The benign if sometimes dysfunctional public service allows me to work just 4 days per week. This helps me stay balanced. It is no longer too cold at the coast overnight, as even the insulation and lining the walls isn’t quite enough. The heat from the little oil filled electric heaters just rises to the arched ceiling, and the big windows are just getting kitted out to keep more warmth in.
Our friends played ping pong with us and helped me work out how the second hand drapes could best be deployed with minimal cuts and maximum sense. There are two types of drapes, and we seem to have solved it. Nothing will completely deter the insects, and the first morning was spent cleaning before the guests arrived. Can’t have them seeing cobwebs in the composting toilet, can we?
On Saturday we took a drive down to Bega, where I had my eyes on an old cottage just outside of town. My partner’s father used to do a lot of house building there, and I used to visit a friend in Tilba and then Bermagui. She died long ago, and the shared compound I used to be part of had the gate locked. The old stomping ground, with many memories. We visited our German painter and his wife in another town, hadn’t seen them in years either.
The property held no interest to me as an investment, because I wouldn’t live there. Not because of the value, not even the broken down state of the 1 bedroom cottage (which I thought was rather cute), but the overall dryness of the area. LIke a bone, dessicated, limp, sad. The far south coast of NSW was always a place of rolling green hills, guaranteed to gladen the heart of parched Canberrans. Some of the pictures in the Art Gallery of NSW in Sydney still show that place. Hadn’t been that far south in maybe 10 years, but my heart was heavy thinking that place may be gone forever, like the friend I used to visit.
Back at Moruya Heads, the dryness and the suddenly hot day made me think of the dam that needs cleaning up. Might need that water one day for fire-fighting, as the smoke wisping up near Guerrila Bay in the distance reminded.
dry dam.jpg
Upon returning to Canberra, the news from nowhere and everywhere pours in, reminding me of how connected my modest life and concerns are to wider issues. Just a sampling, for those who might not have their ears so closely tuned to what no one wants to hear:
There are calls for great international cooperation, and binding agreements. These will only be as good as the accuracy, accessibility and transparency of the information systems that underpin them. As it happens I am writing an academic article on this topic. Each article is a swan song now, but the mantra needs repeating. Copenhagen is a big opportunity, will Australia lead, or lag? How urgent can things get?
The mundane is comforting. Yesterday I moved some rhubarb plants, and got the rechargable battery and LED light for my green dollhouse display. It will be part of an exhibition of the local art group I belong to. In my civilised workplace, we discuss arrangements for the next morning tea, and I rode my bike home twice last week. I have pictures to hang, and a visiting escaped ferret to chat about. He came right upstairs and headed for the cat food; his owners now have him back. We saw the wonderful play The History Boys, and the very interesting movie Tulpan, a Kazakh version of the farmer wants a wife. No wonder Borat was filmed in Romania.
drawing  + cups 044.jpg
gardening me.jpg

Posted by Ronda Jambe at 8:48 am | Comments Off on Under the Moruya Moon (10) |
Filed under: Environment

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