Kingfisher

More often than not over the years, a kingfisher has sat in the Casuarina and watched me shower.

He never waits long enough for me to get a camera.   As soon as the taps are turned off, he disappears.

He becomes invisible, just as he has done for this photo from the shower recess.

I've spent a lot of time staring out that window of late, showering far beyond the socially acceptable time limits, and wondering what excuses the day will bring.

Today is Thursday.  Two days after Tuesday.   That Tuesday, when we were going to have an answer.

Edit:7:30 am.

The letter arrived in our PO Box this morning, "subject to the availability of funds" we are now in the negotiating phase.  The clouds have become instantly lighter, the ball in our stomachs has turned to butterflies.   We have a long road ahead, but at least now we know we are on it.

Social Scorecard 2010:
Day No: 14
Nights at Home: 14
Days Without Visitors: 10

Damn Those Metaphors

So Tuesday came and Tuesday went.


Although the phone rang, it was to say that we are still in the system.  

So where in the above photo are we?   

And what's eating us?

Social Scorecard 2010:
Day No: 13
Nights at Home: 13
Days Without Visitors:9

Meanwhile

Meanwhile, not far away in that very same pond, the water lily carries on.  Dancing as if nothing is happening.

Social Scorecard 2010:
Day No: 12
Nights at Home: 12
Days Without Visitors:8

Solistalgia - "powerful triggers and metaphors"

Even before the last petal of the lotus flower falls, a new bud emerges to take its place.

The germ of an idea forms.

Social Scorecard 2010:
Day No: 11
Nights at Home: 11
Days Without Visitors:7

Solistalgia, a rebuttal.

"— and, interestingly, the small changes in their own front yards formed powerful triggers and metaphors for their despair." 

How on earth did Albrecht come up with this nonesense I wonder.

The lotus has all too little time to bloom before its petals begin to depart.

As soon as it achieves full bloom they sag and flutter, detaching themselves to fly to the pond below, or perhaps to rest for a time on a lily pad.

At first one, then another, then perhaps two more, four.  In a final flurry they all depart.

The first of the petals in our street is vacant.

Fluttering.

Soon there will be another

Social Scorecard 2010:
Day No: 10
Nights at Home: 10
Days Without Visitors:6

More Solistalgia

Setting out to post a photograph each day was intended to be a simple task. Just create a simple record of where we were and what we were seeing that we could reflect on at the end of the year I thought.

There was no intention to actually reflect each day, but  after just a few days the constant reminder of what we were about to lose took a toll on the thought process, and as no doubt every reader has noticed, as somewhat less flippant than usual documentary than is my custom has been the result thus far.

Watching our bees flit among the lillys and lotus really hit a nerve for some reason.  Our little Australian native stingless bees (trigonias)  have no idea they are in for a move as well, and I suspect that if they did, they'd just get about their business without further reflection.

The discovery that the way we feel was not only quite normal, but that it had been identified, described, and even named, and that our neighbours were experiencing the same emotional tugs has put a different perspective on what is happening in our minds.

Four days ago, when I photographed the Lapwings, I had a lump in my throat. Then the next morning as I watched the Sandpiper, and thought of the roosting Oyster Catchers on the other side of the river, and the cormorants, the mistletoe birds, the magpies that bathe in the fish pond each day and the cranes that fish in it, not to mention the kingfisher that watches me shower, I truly wondered if I shouldn't stop this project lest I become a walking streak of melancholy.

A lot can happen in three days as one tries to gain an understanding of self.

Had we sold our house in the normal course of events, we'd suffer a day or so of remorse after signing the contract, undoubtedly a day or two of sadness would follow, and then we'd get on with it and move. We'd return occasionally to see how the trees were doing, to have a cup of tea or a piece of Christmas Cake in the old neighbourhood.  We'd marvel at how the neighbour's grandchildren had grown and how the renovations in number seven were still not quite complete and it would be as if we'd never left.

Or perhaps we'd just drive down our street with the grandchildren in tow, out of idle curiosity.

What we know today that we didn't know two days ago is that it isn't the loss of property or the uncertainty of dealing with the situation that is playing with our minds.  It is the fact that the community will have vanished without trace, and with it our emotional ties to the place.  We can handle that now that we know what troubles us so.

Interesting.

So now we are back to the beginning, recording our days, preserving some memories that in the normal course of events would not need physical reminders.  Providing some ties.

I wonder if we have time to get it all.


Social Scorecard 2010:
Day No: 9
Nights at Home: 9
Days Without Visitors: 5

Solistalgia

The pond is alive at the moment, another lotus flower will be at its glorious peak today.   Their subtlety is an extraordinary contrast to the vivid blues and yellows of the water lilies on the surface, and our little native bees are going gangbusters flitting between them all.

I must buy the timber to build a new hive today, ours is now long overdue for a split.

As I sit and watch it all a cloud descends.   It's not black or dark or the sort of cloud that makes one perpetually sad or melancholy, but it is none the less a cloud with the merest hint of those ingredients, a whiff of sadness round its edges perhaps.

While wondering about all that, and what picture to post for today, Sue phoned and told us about solistalgia, and our world of hitherto inexplicable emotions suddenly had an explanation;

"It's the homesickness you feel when you're still at home."

… the distress caused by the lived experience of the transformation of one’s home and sense of belonging and is experienced through the feeling of desolation about its change. [snip]

The diagnosis of solastalgia is based on the recognition of the distress within an individual or a community about the loss of ‘endemic sense of place’ and the loss of a sense of control of its destiny.

In essence, solastalgia is the sadness caused by environmental change.

The concept was created by Glenn Albrecht, a professor at the School of Environmental and Life Sciences at the University of Newcastle, after he noticed the depression amongst rural farmers in drought-stricken lands. The drought had caused increased workloads, debt, and fear about future security — and, interestingly, the small changes in their own front yards formed powerful triggers and metaphors for their despair. Albrecht’s studies showed that farmer women would be enormously more upset over the loss of their gardens than their mortgage or income. (“Losing a garden is often quite dramatic,” as a colleague noted. “It’s often the only thing that’s between them and a vast landscape of dust.”)

That's exactly it!  "The loss of a sense of control over it's destiny".

It has a name, it's definitely how we feel, but I still don't understand how we have allowed ourselves to succumb to such an illogical malady. "Despair" is not how we feel admittedly, far from that, but we are acutely aware that we are seeing the last season of our frangipani blooms, and that the already vacant houses in our street and the next are starting to show the first signs of unkemptness as our community crumbles before our eyes.

Perhaps when someone actually makes a decision, removing our uncertainty, these feelings will pass.

Roll on Tuesday.

Social Scorecard 2010:
Day No: 8
Nights at Home: 8
Days Without Visitors: 4