Koala Count thwaited.

Merrily climbing through the forest , eyes focussed on the canopy and lower branches in the hope of seeing and recording the koalas, I slipped and landed heavily on a hidden rock. Luckily and after a couple of disturbed sleeps, I am relieved that I did not break a rib. Made a comfrey leaf poultice ( for what it is worth to the individual ) and applied to my chest. Today a bruise has appeared so I am on the mend. Now to venture again to try and find the koala, I have 7 days before the count is scheduled to end.

Before my taking my eye off my footing I walked up a drying up creek bed to see two yabbies, this one was peering out of its haven in the rocks.


Due to injury and heat have spent the last couple of days indoors listening to radio (Australia’s new political reality is very depressing ) and reading. Colm Toibin’s “Brooklyn”, a young woman’s emigration story, from Ireland to Brooklyn, NY. Funny and sad, struck a chord in me as I have lived most of my life as an emigrant. Followed on by his collection of stories in “Mothers and Sons”, some very moving and insightful, Toibin has been a pure treat to read.

Now a glimpse into why many of us are in a silent despair.


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