Life cycles

I’ve had a few emotional dry and rough patches this year at least partly due to change. One whole year was dedicated body and mind to the house. Now that energy needs to be redirected and so far it hasn’t been. Lots of projects are on the boil, sitting there simmering away without anything to move them onto the next level. Things have changed at the school and all of us have been a bit unsettled. Blithe Girl is poised on the edge of, not teenagehood, but no longer childhood. Blithe Boy has realised that he and Mum are different people. Merry Girl is not always merry. I believe it’s called family life.

I’ve been learning a huge amount in my first research contract. Gaining that learning has been hard work. I’m slightly encouraged by my boss’s comments that it is a particularly hard project. After nearly a decade out of the formal workforce, I wondered how much was due to my own lack of skills and confidence. Unfortunately moving forward on that project is dependent on someone else’s input and I am currently on hold. The second project is still hanging in the balance.

The novel is still not finished although slow progress is being made. Next week I’m meeting with the team to discuss the book about mining that somehow needs to be written this year. It may be movement but I’m not sure in what direction.

And this last weekend was the Marburg Show – my annual reminder that the year is no longer young. It was a quiet show, which I enjoy, although financially it isn’t the best for the community groups that depend on the show for a good chunk of their annual fundraising. It was also a glorious autumn day of sunshine, cloud and breeze.


There were rides and displays, helicopters and utes. Horses, cows, chickens and birds. Vegetables, giant pumpkins, sugar cane, eggs and honey. Quilts, embroidery, jewellery, weaving, crochet, scrapbooking. Police displays, fire ant warnings, historical information, an accordion player, a collection of sewing machines, a gem polisher, a blacksmith and food galore.

There’s the annual tussle between three venerable ladies over who wins the most floral awards. This year I winkled the secret out of one of them. You have to spend weeks picking flowers at their peak and putting them in the fridge. When your fridge is full, you borrow a neighbour’s. On show week you spend all week arranging flowers from your stash. There’s no way I can compete with such dedication! Nor, to be honest, is my garden up to scratch.

Of central interest to us is the school displays. The school children submit craft, handwriting, drawings, poems and creative writing. The first thing we have to do on arrival at the show is make our way to the main hall and check out the displays. Merry Girl’s “true” poem snagged a prize. I wonder how the original poem would have gone. Other prizes were garnered as well. What brought tears to my eyes though, was that both Blithe Girl and Merry Girl won first prize for their age groups for creative writing. My pride knew no bounds. So please excuse a little boasting.