An ode to my home. Well, one of my homes anyway.
Where I originally come from the colours are all shades of green and grey and white. Skies dotted with clouds or completely overtaken by grey weather related set in for days and days. Where I come from everything flourishes, everything is lush and green.
But the landscape here vastly different and it has won me over, it has warmed its way indelibly into my heart.
This landscape of big blue skies -a massive happy expanse stretched out high above, day by day. Bright, brilliant and blue, so very blue.
This place of red earth, dusty and dry. Hardened to rock under the harsh and unrelenting sun. Warm, solid, reassuring.
This country of cheery yellow wheat fields, wild grasses, happy canola flowers dancing in the cool, quiet morning breeze.
These are the colours of here – warm, embracing, constant and clear.
Here the sunsets are glorious. Day after day our golden globe sets in quiet, predictable, magnificent splendour, throwing rose, amber and violet tinted light across the dry landscape.
Frogs and cricket crop and serenade the evening as though it has rained (it hasn’t). The dusk air is cool, always cool, soft and still. Then, come morning, a gentle breeze blows (from where?) until the sun reclaims its land and temperatures begin again to soar.
Here there is rhythm, always rhythm, and predictability. Seasons change emphatically and yet at a snails pace, melding imperceptibly into one another until -suddenly it seems – the baked earth becomes crisp with frost and the breeze once cool now bites as if blowing straight off alpine mountains. Everything turns brown as winter sets in – long, arduous, and cold.
Ones gaze is better now turned indoors toward hearth alight, wool gliding through fingers, and copious cups of steaming sweet tea – a winter hibernation while one longs and waits for spring.