A Fairytale Launch

 

Last week I travelled to Christchurch for the launch of, Wish upon a Southern Star – a collection of retold fairy tales by Australian and New Zealand authors.  My story, Jack and the Alphaget Book is one of the stories chosen by editor Shelley Chappell to be part of this anthology.

This was my first book launch and my first time in the south island of New Zealand so it was all very exciting. When we arrived at our air bnb the hosts showed us the backyard where a clear spring-fed creek flowed (header image). And there in the creek was a magnificent white swan– straight out of a fairytale. This swan was particularly cranky and aggressive towards us so I guessed an evil witch had put a rather nasty spell on it – or perhaps it was slighted because there were no retellings of, The ‘Wild Swans’ in Wish upon a Southern Star.

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Wish upon a Southern Star contains 21 retold fairytales, ranging from the well-known tales such as Cinderella and Rapunzel to lesser known ones such as retellings of Kissa the Cat and Cat and Mouse in Partnership.

I haven’t had a chance to read the collection yet because I’ve been reading a novel that I need to finish. I’m rigid like that I can’t start a book no matter how enticing until I finish the one I’m on (is anybody else like that?). But I am enjoying just looking at it on my bedside table – like a treasure chest of untold wonders just waiting to be opened. From the readings at the launch I know there is a wonderful blend of dark and funny, romantic and prescient.

My daughter and I spent a lovely few days in Christchurch – a city still rebuilding from the devastating earthquakes 7 years ago. There are more tradesman than shoppers in the central district and a mall of shipping container shops. We could have tried to cover more of the south island in the four days we were there but there is something to be said for staying put in a unfamiliar city and trying to get a feel for the people, the culture and the layout. We deduced in our brief time that Christchurchians are above all resilient. Conversations with the locals showed their pragmatism regarding the disruptive and slow rebuilding process and their unshakeable (literally) pride in their city and their optimism for the future.

The book launch itself was held in the South Christchurch Library with individual author talks, book sales and importantly nibbles. It was lovely to meet many of the other authors and share in the thrill of holding the book in our hands.

 

For me the old adage of ‘no writing is wasted’ had come true. Unlike many of the other authors in the collection I hadn’t written this story in response to the call for submissions but had written it many years ago. Jack and the Alphaget book was one of those rare stories that tumbled out of my head in a few days. However when I sat back to look at it I realised that there was just no market for a  tween story with such a long word count (6000 words). So I put it away for a long sleep among my computer files …. until Shelley my fairy godmother came along for a request for retold fairytales up to 10,000 words! With help from my writing group I dusted off and polished my story and successfully submitted it, and now here it is, in an anthology.  The moral is never throw away any of your old manuscripts – there may just be a market that opens up in the future.

Wish upon a Southern Star is available on Amazon.https://www.amazon.com/dp/B072S9N983

Cosy Corners

I am taking part in the Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: CORNER

Corners can have bad connotations you don’t want to be sent to the naughty corner or be backed into a corner or even cornered by a pushy person.

But the corners in my post are more the cosy or the useful kind. There are times you need the comfort and structure of those sides around you.

You may need to hide in a corner…

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Black rock skink – Green Cape NSW

Even if you’re a pretend bug…

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One of the smaller displays at Sculpture By the Sea – Sydney

Or a frog in pot in a pond

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There is  a story of incredible resilience concerning this Striped marsh frog that I will relate in another post. But you may note it has deformed legs on one side.

 

Corners can be good to anchor your nest…

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Common paper wasp: Polistes humilis

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Mud-dauber wasps nests –  Sceliphron sp

or coccoon.

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Saunders Case Moth larvae.

Sometimes we seek corners out of the wind and cold and hot sun…

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or cosy corners just to snuggle.

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The Stars of the Show

I am taking part in the Daily Post Photo Challenge:  Ooh Shiny!

(The challenge this week is too find something that provides a delightful distraction, that never fails to grab your attention away from the everyday.)

When people think of Australian fauna they think of the cute and furry marsupials – koalas, kangaroos and wombats or in the bird world they think of the sight of a running emu or the sound of a laughing kookaburra.  But to my mind, it is the parrots which are the attention-getters – the stars of the Aussie show.  Colourful, intelligent often raucous and bold, they never fail to delight and distract me. Many parrot species are long-lived, some mate for life – this devotion to one another is both heart-warming and fascinating.  When we moved houses over ten  years ago, from a block surrounded by rain-forest to coastal suburbia, it was the parade of parrots I missed most . The following is part of an essay I wrote entitled, Our Escarpment Home.

The parrots were the gaudy stars of the bird show and the avian personalities we observed the closest, due to occasionally feeding them native seed mix. The king parrots were the most spectacular with their fire-red chests (and heads in males) and their backs of velvety green. Despite their regal appearance the king parrots were humble. They watched us warily with soft eyes as they ever so daintily picked at the seed. They dwelt only in the tall trees. They’d land on our high veranda railing but I never saw them descend to the ground. This was such an unbreakable habit that we witnessed quite a few in great distress one scorching New Year’s Day. The thermometer soared to 43 degrees Celsius and four kings arrived dazed on our balcony, their mouths gaping with thirst. They were beyond being able to fly or even beyond reasoning to take water from a bowl. One female collapsed in front of us. We took it inside and squeezed water from a rag into her mouth. We saw no other species of birds in the trees or deck. We assumed the others had descended lower into cooler gullies and dense undergrowth, but not the ever-tree dwelling kings. When the evening came with a cool southerly change we released the distressed parrot. She flew to a nearby tree looking somewhat stunned. We could only hope she survived her traumatic experience.

The king parrots may have dwelt in the tops of the trees but they certainly weren’t the top of the pile. That honour belonged to the cheeky rainbow lorikeets. As their name suggests their plumage is a brash assortment of colours – blue, yellow, orange and green. They are the smallest but the pluckiest of parrots, the top guns. They’d skim past the corners of our house at impossible speeds and with pinpoint accuracy. The sulphur-crested white cockatoos are four times the size of the lorikeets but fled in submission when a pair of these bossy little birds flew to the deck.

The white cockies provided the comic relief in the parrot drama. There is nothing subtle about these big birds. They’d land on the railing with a thud and pleading squawks then proceed to earn their seed by entertaining us with gawky, swaying dances, nodding heads and expressive talking. Sometimes they’d ramp up the physical comedy by hanging upside down from their perch or pretending to fall from the sky in an uncontrolled dive, only to recover with much squawking and flapping.

The blue and red, crimson rosellas were the shyest, the backstage workers. They often didn’t land on the veranda at all but picked up the scraps of seeds flung to the ground by the messy cockies or impatient lorikeets.

The largest of the parrots were the transient black cockatoos who flew through the tree tops calling to their partners with their mournful drawn-out cries. A flypast of black cockatoos was relatively rare and we would rush out to watch them as they wheeled and cried through the trees.

Some of the following photos were taken before I had a SLR camera so are of varying quality but I hope they show the beauty and some of the variety of Australian parrots.

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Rainbow Lorikeet – swift and cheeky

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Sulphur-crested Cockatoo – raucous clowns. Long-lived about 20-40 years in the wild.

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Galah (the only parrot more common here in our new home on the coast) – a comical ground-feeding waddler

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The Crimson Rosella – shy and reserved.

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Gang-Gang Cockatoo (juvenile) – Mature male has a brilliant red head.

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Yellow-tailed black Cockatoo – Large, mournful criers

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King Parrots – beautiful , gentle. My son (12 years ago) admires the handsome male.

Erupting Elements

I am taking part in the Daily Post photo challenge: ELEMENTAL

I always find that places in nature that are the most awe-inspiring are those not on the well-trodden tourist trail. They are uncrowded places where you can view the elements uninhibited by gift shops, barricades, queues and mazes of signposts. These places often have an element of danger for the unwary and you can imagine viewing the landscape as the indigenous peoples did thousands of years ago.

WATER

The first picture is a blowhole near Eden on the Far South Coast of NSW. We had a lovely bush walk through banksias to reach the spot and didn’t see a soul on our way there.  The blowhole was in fine form fed by the north-easterly swell. Massive volumes of water were forced to a height of six metres or more. There is nothing quite like seeing the swell roll in and feeling the anticipation – here it comes – boom and woosh. The air in the tunnel below is forced out and the water erupts.

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EARTH

There are places in the world where the earth’s crust is so thin that the hot mantle rises to the surface. These places of geothermal activity  give us a glimpse of the molten interior of the earth.

The following photos was taken 12 years ago at a place in the North Island of New Zealand called Orakei Korako. The park here is not far from the famous geysers at Rotorua but this place left a far greater impression on me than that more touristy town. Here water boils up in clear ponds heated by geothermal vents. These ponds are  close enough to reach out and touch (if you wanted to end up with severe burns). The air is hot smoky and sulphurous in a landscape where silica terraces are fringed by palms. All this in the otherwise cool temperate climate of New Zealand was a quite a surreal experience.  It seemed to be a scene straight out of the Jurassic age. I don’t remember the sulphur smell but judging by my daughter’s face it was quite bad.

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Written in Stone

 

I am taking part in the Daily Post Photo Challenge: TEXTURE

Who hasn’t felt a compulsion to feel the texture of a sandstone boulder warmed by the sun, a smooth pebble from the river bed or a jagged quartz crystal.  To touch a rock is to connect to the earth before, humans. Before life itself.  I feel a poem coming on, and photos of  richly textured rocks taken on my travels.

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Written in Stone

Feel my ancient armour

Pitted, cracked, creviced

Broken, battered, fractured

Crumbled, smoothed and polished.

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Battles of ice and furnace

The water, wind and waves

The violent and the grinding,

Have left these scars I bear.

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Prehistoric life crushed

Old sea beds exposed.

Fossils and living lichens,

Leave their stories here

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Touch me says the silent stone.

Feel my weight and warmth,

Gathered from billion days.

Beneath your fleeting hands.

 

By Leigh Roswen

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Sprawling satisfaction.

I am taking part in the Daily Post Photo Challenge : SATISFACTION

10-15 years ago when the kids were still small we regularly picnicked in the Wollongong Botanical Gardens.  We had our own favourite out-of-the-way (secret) spot where there was a bench-table in the sun. We’d spread out on ‘our’ bench to drink tea, orange juice and eat biscuits before exploring the gardens.

Below is the only photo I could find of our picnics. The grass wasn’t always this brown – it must have been a dry autumn in 2006. My son (not sure where daughter was) and husband are sitting on the bench. My son is soon to turn 18 but has still been known to hog/hug the biscuits to himself.

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Nearby to our bench was a magnificent (or at least I thought so) prostrate coastal banksia (Banksia integrifolia). It’s thick branches supported it in a metre-high dome shape and it sprawled for at least five metres in diameter.

I’m not sure why I was so struck by this unruly plant when the rest of the botantical gardens displayed mighty spreading trees, exotic cacti, an impressive rainforest  and an an orderly rose garden.

I think I liked its tangled, rambling and of course the robust yellow brush flowers – I have a fascination with banksia flowers.

At the time we lived on the escarpment in Wollongong – an area of rainforest, clay soils and limited sunlight hours. So, though I would have liked to buy a prostrate banksia, there was nowhere suitable to plant it. It’s a plant that needs plenty of room, light soil and full sun.

When we moved closer to the beach and landscaped our garden I finally found a spot to plant a banksia, unfortunately this spot was under the kid’s trampoline. The filtered sunlight through the trampoline net wasn’t ideal. The banksia survived but struggled. The children eventually outgrew the trampoline and my banksia was finally exposed to full sun. Now when I look out the kitchen window the first thing I see is my lovely sprawling, flowering banksia. It is a favourite of the little wattlebird too. Most mornings it sits on its branches and chuckles and chatters – proclaiming the banksia as its own. I’m happy to share it.

My plant is not as magnificent as the one in the botanical gardens  but it does bring me great satisfaction, a  living symbol of persistence and resilience.

Kitchen Quilt

I am taking part in the Daily Post Photo Challenge: COLLAGE

When I first got my macro lens it was a cold, dark evening and I had nothing else to practice on but what I had in the house. I mostly took pictures of kitchen things. Those photos were terrible as I had no clue of the importance of setting adequate depth of field or how to sync my flash. When I got home from a holiday and I saw this week’s challenge, it was also a cold evening and I didn’t really have anything to fit the bill.  So I revisited the kitchen as a macro world and came up with this ‘kitchen quilt’.

To add a bit of fun here is a few clues to some of the items in my quilt. Can you find them?

Dull nobility drink

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary no Thyme.

Like a writing tool with no ink

Breakfast in a pub

The princess’s bane chilled

A segmented language