, , , ,

I have found a job that gives me pleasure and brings no ghosts of Warsaw in its wake, although it does remind me of the fire horrors of summer in the bush. Early on Saturday morning I went out onto the hillside on the bush block where I spend weekends, found the blue rake and began to pile leaves and sticks ready for removal to the mulch tank. I enjoyed the rhythm of it, marking out the boundaries for the next rake and combing through grass clumps to extract leaves and casuarina needles. The discovery of fading hardenbergia, tiny Lomandra flowers, button flowers in their pink phase, and two species of eggs and bacon drew me back into my bush life and reminded me of past years of raking. It's satisfying to have here-memories layered, to see my mounds multiplying and to feel the beginning of a blister near my thumb and a slight ache in muscles not used in propelling a twin pram. Over two days, I produced thirty small heaps and felt content in my present.