The consumption of this latest cupful of artificial colours and flavours took place at an 'old' new favourite picnic spot of ours in the Gold Coast Hinterland, Hinze Dam. The reason for heading out on such dismal, cold, grey day: Me. I was restless and reluctant to relinquish my hold of the school holidays in favour of the rigorous, routine the new school term was about to unleash. In short I needed a change of scenery. So we packed the picnic basket and umbrellas and headed for the hills.
|Revamped Picnic area (on sunny day)|
And were we fazed by the drizzle? Not at all. We timed our walks, including a trek across the dam wall, in between showers. We gazed out over Sheltered Bay and Pelican Point as mist melted across the water like butter on hot toast.
And we revelled in the solitude of our surroundings; well we did until four wagon loads of visiting Indians descended. God love their cauldrons of steaming rice and fragrant curries. Certainly put our humble sandwiches to shame.
After they'd left and my lot had trooped off to do their own thing, I enjoyed ten minutes of unexpected serenity. I stared off into the green filled horizon of the picnic area, mesmerised by the rhythmic drip of raindrops on the shelter's tin roof and the lemony scent of wet eucalyptus. And I realised that all endings must have beginnings. That's necessary. That's important. Realising where these endings and beginnings are is not quite so important. Unless you are so desperate to find your pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, that you've forgotten that rainbows are actually round. True.
In short: I may not have picked up the pen much over the last two weeks. But for us writers, it's as much about the preparation as it is about the actual writing at times. For me at least. School holidays, minutes of solitude, watching my little girl skip under a pink umbrella with her cola Slushie, all allowed me to sweep clean the desk of my mind so that the next thing I write on it will be clearer than the waters of the Hinze Dam.