Clare's Spot

The world spread out before us, horizon on every side. From this height the curve could be seen plainly. Slowly the hills and valleys drifted past. The world looked smoother from far away. Winding watercourses were marked in squiggles across the land by the dark green trees, water reflected the deep blue of the sky. The sky that I was part of. Lives drifted past us. People driving down the highway, busily going on with normal life, while we passed unnoticed, overhead. Vineyards and paddocks patchworked the country side. Everything a shade of rain watered green.

It has been a rather crazy few weeks for my family, but in between everything we got to go flying. I had never been in any air craft before, so the experience was like no other. I guess it is also very different to being in a passenger plane. A lot different.

My sisters and I went up in a little four seater plane. From the airport we flew, following the highway back to our house. Then we returned to the airport, it took about half an hour.

I was not scared of flying..... just the not flying.... trust issue I suppose. But I survived. Actually, I totally forgot about the fact that the plane might fall out of the sky at any moment, or we would get lost, or crash land, or sizzle up in the sun or fly out of the atmosphere.... or be abducted by aliens. Yes, well actually, I didn't even think about that until afterwards. I had purposely not thought about it beforehand.

Amazing, awesomeness, wow, I think that for a time I was just staring with my mouth open.

Then we flew over our town. I hardly recognized it at first. Everything looked so strange from the air.

Flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. ~Douglas Adams

We could also see the ugly grey cuts in the earth as we flew over. I could see them even more from the sky than from the ground. They seemed smaller though, but then everything did. Then the plane banked and turned. The take off was fine and the landing, the banking though, well it was not so nice, I suddenly got to thinking about; how do these things actually stay up? In the next photo I am trying to hold the camera straight (in comparison to the aeroplane) ...... the horizon, well you can see, it is not exactly flat.... well it is flat but it has a great tilt to it and when I am so far above the ground that has a slightly disturbing effect.

Then the plane flew level again, through the blue sky over green paddocks. Isn't our God amazing to create all this! How beautiful it looks, I do wonder what land that had not been touched by man would look like though. We went flying at the perfect time, early in the morning and after two months of massive rainfall. All shades of green spread out below us. Each paddock differing slightly from those bordering it. The ugly grey scars of the mines really stood out though. It is such a pity they are necessary for our countries economy.

Below us, life went on.

We even flew through a cloud, not a huge one but enough that for a moment we were shrouded in grey.

It seemed strange to be able to look down on other peoples lives; to look at their houses and all their property from above; to watch cars drive along the road, cattle, horses and sheep wander in their paddocks.

I would do it again if I had the chance.

Have you been flying before?

In a big or small plane or in something else?

Did you like it? would you do it again?

I had no hope. Why should I? What with a child on the way and two already that walked the streets hungry, and a husband who had left. Not that I blame him, and none may be better than an abusive one. My little ones had to beg for sustenance. I threw up whatever anyone had the kindness to give me. At least I could lie in the meagre privacy of our little curtained place, situated in the corner of the room we shared with three other families. Death would come to me warmly anyway.

Then the angel walked in. Without knocking, we had no door anyway. The spirits skin glowed in the dim light of the room. She bent over me. I had always thought dying would be more painful, and then nothingness, or torment, until I had paid for my life. A man angel rounded the curtain and together they lifted my feather weight and bore me away. I caught one last glimpse of my boy, tears dribbling out of his brown eyes, watching as I left, unable to do anything about it. I should have stayed for him, or for the little girl with bouncing black curls that I knew would be standing in the dirt somewhere, watching. I reached out to my boy and a moan escaped my lips then they were all gone.

Light reflected off light blue walls. A sheet of crinkling white lay over and under me. The angels came and went. They fed me, and talked to me. They were not spirits but people like me; they just had different coloured skin. Now, I remember sometimes seeing other spirit coloured people before, but not often, they usually avoided us, especially women and others as poor and worthless as me.

These people who are not spirits are strange, they have strange ideas. They think I am worth something and they say that someone great loves me. But I know they are wrong. They say he sent them, but I have seen many to whom he has not sent them. I tell them there is no point in what they are doing, even if I get better, there is no hope. I have lost this child and I know not what has become of my others. Truly all I did have, that little, is gone.

Still they will not give up on either my health or my soul. I should not be frightened, someone they call God is watching me, but I have heard of God. He requires the life of people, of children, he is not good. Nevertheless they tell me stories, of a great creator who loves, everyone, even me. A Jesus who says; “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

They have made my body better, my spirit, not yet. I can leave; I have to, so they can help others, show the love of their Jesus to more. That is why they help. I will go, but I am coming back. Ha that is also something their Jesus said. They say I am to come to the little house next to these rooms. There they will tell me and others more stories; stories that are true, or so they say. I will listen, because if they are true, I have hope.

What of the birds this month? Well the month started with a bird crashing into the window and killing itself. Sadly the bird was a female Satin Bower bird.

Just a few days ago though, I heard the rush of many wings above me and looked up. Birds darted through the sky, circling around and around, darting flashes of black and white. They were White Throated Needletails. From photos I took, I counted over sixty birds.

See all the black specks in the photo? There were a lot of White Throated Needletails. I have only ever seen them here once before and again they were in a huge flock. They breed in North Asia when it is winter in Australia, so now it is summer here they are back. According to my bird book they are 20cm, I am not sure if that is their body or wing length.

A part from the Needle Tails the only birds of note I have seen this month are Blue faced Honey-eaters. We were visited by a pair of Blue faced Honey-eaters around the middle of the month. They were trying to get a drink out of our fountain, while being dive bombed by the Noisy Miners. They hid in a rose bush, I could just make out their blue eye patches and green wings. Then the two birds flew out and away, being followed by a noisy flock of those horrid Miner birds.

The sun sparkled over the trees, glinting off scattered water droplets left behind by the rain of the previous night. Tiny droplets scattered over the grass made it look as if a fairy had flung bucketfuls of magic-dust all over the world, or at least for as far as the eye could see.

I found three fungi growing at the edge of one of the gardens and ran back inside to get a towel to lay on the wet grass. I also got a spray bottle. I spent the next Idon'tknowhowlong lying next to the fungi and taking photos of it and spraying water down on it from above, which gives the wonderful effect of looking like rain. Except this rain does not squash the fungi or get my camera very wet.

I had also taken some photos the evening before, I had not sun then but the photos still turned out looking nice. I had a spray bottle then too.

Fisck hummed through the evening air towards her favourite haunt; the cave of unguarded skins. She darted straight towards the small tear in the gauze, and slipped inside. Heat radiated from three bodies in the room. The time had not yet come for they were still moving around. So she rested behind the stiff curtain of blue that hung down from the roof, waiting good-naturedly.

Fisck listened as another of the Sanguinarius entered the room. She was not as patient as Fisck though. She buzzed through the air straight towards one of the heat sources who were not yet still. The buzzing stopped and began then stopped, Fisck continued to wait. A sharp slap echoed through the room. The Foolhardy One tumbled to the floor with the life crushed out of her.

As one of the elder Sanguinarius, Fisck knew how to bide her time. She knew it paid in the end, with blood. Lights winked out. Soon the only sounds in the room were slow breathing. The time had come. Fisck’s wings hummed as she flew through the cool night air towards the warmest heat source. She alighted on the wall and surveyed her prey. One of the Unguarded Skins lay spread out before her, arms, a leg, a head and neck, inviting her touch.

Fisck dived down. The Unguarded Skin turned over, and Fisck zipped back up into the air. A soft murmur, then stillness came over the room. She hummed downwards and settled onto a wrist of the Unguarded Skin. There is skill even in where to take the blood from, in some places it is sweet and in others not so, in some places blood springs easily and in others it takes too long. Fisck had hunted for many weeks and by now was numbered with the experts.

Fisck plunged her sharp proboscis deep into the Unguarded Skin’s flesh and sucked. Blood drained into her gut. The surface under her feet twitched. The Unguarded Skin shuffled and slapped at her wrist, far too late, for Fisck now sat on the frame of a picture on the wall.

A few minutes later Fisck hummed down again and landed on the leg that stuck out from the covering, again drawing blood from her victim. A growl followed closely by a slap broke the stillness, but only after the quiet hum of mosquito wings. The Unguarded Skin pulled all her limbs under the sheet and listened to the zzzzzzzzz of Fisck wings as she circled. Fisck landed on the warm cheek of her almost sleeping quarry. The blood had a warm sweetness that satisfied Fisck greatly.

For a second Fisck struggled to get away from the thrashing of sheets, and arms. She almost got stuck under a fold of cloth. Only one more bite and she would be full. But now the Unguarded Skin had covered herself in folds of the sheet. Fisck returned to the wall, waiting.

Under the sheet the Unguarded Skin could not breathe properly and the cool night air could not get to her. She uncovered her head and stuck out one hand and foot. From her post Fisck noticed the movement. She buzzed downwards. While the Unguarded Skin thrashed and stilled and rolled over and lay still again Fisck took her chance and got the last sip from a finger and one for luck from the Unguarded Skin’s arm.

Sated, Fisck flew away into the night. She didn’t stay to hear the scratching noise, followed by rustlings and muttering that continued long into the light.

So dear Fisck, you have my permission to show this to the Sanguinarius. Go and rejoice at how famous you are, get to full of blood and explode. Obliterating all of your kind in the process. Sincerely, all of the Unguarded Skins.

I have a new website for my photography; Clear Light Photography. It is because of that, that my blogging has been rather erratic. Now though, I have finished my website and it is up and running and looking very nice.

I also have a blog on Clear Light Photography, it will be for photos though, people and possibly pet photographs. But the posts shall also have words, what I don't know but to make search engines find my website it needs words so I shall have to think of something to say about each post. Something that does not sound entirely unprofessional. I have done a post on there about "Brown paper packages tied up with strings." We had a bit of fun shooting those photos in the golden evening light.

I have some ideas for posts, including one about a mosquito.... possibly, and one about birds like I am meant to do each month, it is just that nothing particularly noticeable has happened in the bird world at Tanglewood... except that a bird killed itself on our window.

Me trying to work out how easily it would be for a story character to get up off the floor with hands tied uncomfortably behind her back. As in not just behind it but twisted so they point up and her ankles tied together….. all tight and she is also bashed up….. Naturally the easiest way it to try it myself….. though not literally and I was rolling around on the floor from laughter not pain… and because my sisters walked in…. I decided that she couldn’t….

When I suddenly realize my hand is covered in greasy black and I have NO IDEA HOW it could have gotten on me. I still don’t know.

When we have had a dead bird in the bin for three weeks in a row…… then a bird crashes into the window and kills itself… four weeks in a row….

When it takes people ages to realize that I am Clear Light Photography and that it is not just some random photography business I am promoting…..

Driving another family to a photo shoot….. in their car… and their accelerator is hard to find….. I am at this intersection and it is finally clear, but I have the problem that the car is not going forward, because even though I know just about where the accelerator is, it is not pressing down… Of course by the time I find it, there are cars again, so I have to wait.

Being a home-schooled person which obviously means my life has been ruined, so people must attempt to impart some knowledge into me and try and argue me into doing more courses so I can get a job….. at least a part time one…. While I am trying to explain that I already do…. I am a PHOTOGRAPHER, people actually pay me to take photos of them…. I don’t just go around doing photo shoots for free…….

Playing "The Last Goodbye" alternately; on one computer and then the other almost all day.... Because we went to see the Battle of Five Armies the day before!

Getting 250 business cards for FREE from Vista Print. I only had to pay postage and I couldn't really customize them (only add my info) but $7 compared to $40 is a big difference!

The fact that there is one slight but not particularly noticeable spelling mistake on the cards..... I think it was not me though, because I copy pasted everything on it so there would be no possibility of mistakes..... oh well....I can't help finding it funny though!

Making up parodies for “I see Fire” That have to do with burning food in the microwave…… and then burning with your food because “We should all burn together”

Playing “I see Fire” and singing it at the top of my lungs while cooking tea/dinner/last meal of the day.

And of course singing the rest of the songs that have words and have something to do with Tolkien... even if it is the movies of his stories..... which compared to his actual writing are SECOND RATE...... Which is a favourite saying of my sisters and I.... Like the second rate broom I was trying to sweep with today..... the broom part kept falling off the stick part, and that is just second rate!

And you should go check out my sisters blog. She has published the entire version of food burning in the microwave..... the part I was singing was the following;

Oh if my lunch will burn

Surely I’ll do the same

Confined in microwaves

It got too close to the flame

Calling out father oh hold fast and we will

Watch the flames burn auburn in the microwave

Desolation comes upon my soul

It was actually Alice's food not Jane's that was being microwaved at the time. The post is on jane's blog though and called I See Fire.