Sunday, February 16, 2014
Moving in a Direction that isn't Backwards
After a week of hot weather, fire horror stories, commuting problems, a major Arvo Job drama, hospital crap, a general queasiness pervading my days, and bulldozers razing a lovely, old garden to create a blitzed landscape up behind my house and across the boundaries of the two properties on either side of me, which has, by the by, completely changed the micro-climate of my backyard, I had a surprisingly lovely Sunday.
There was peace, there was quiet, there were cool breezes wafting through the house, there was much reading done (The Man Who Loved China by Simon Winchester), and after a couple of hours of sustained effort, there was a brand new story all finished on my hard drive just waiting for a polish in a week or two. And I submitted a story as well. I haven't done any submitting for quite a while, so I hope I've now reset my habits.
So there, I think I can get through next week now.
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2 comments:
I find it so sad when gardens are blitzed into nothingness, but I console myself with the big picture. In a thousand years the soil will still be there, things will be growing, and the edifice will have fallen down and gone. Perhaps.
That kind of thing breaks my heart. In St Kilda, for over twenty years, my balcony overlooked the most wonderfully landscaped front garden of a beautiful Victorian house that had gone a tad wild. I had treetops just across from my lounge room. It was great, I loved my eyrie. The backyard was a wonderful stretch of overgrown messiness that I could enjoy as well. Then they turned the house into very trendy, luxury units, pulled down the jasmine, razed the old trees, laid down cement and turned the front section into, of all things, a car park for the residents. Yuk! They also squashed in some town houses down the back.
Every time I go past, I remember that old garden and scowl at the cars and the cement.
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