When his mother watched this footage in New Zealand, she called to the television screen: “Look up! Look up!” She later told me that she was so disappointed that she could not see the eyes of her loving son whom she missed so much…
When I actually watched it many years later I asked him: “Why didn’t you look up at the camera?” He told me that he felt quite emotionally affected reading that statement regarding the tragedy, even though he did not vote for Harold Holt.
He had passed away two and half years ago and I could still hear his voice so strongly.
Being sick with a bad dose of cold or flu is not at all what I need at the moment but sick I am. While nursing my cold with hot soup and herbal tea, I am trying hard not to self-pity for there is no one to hear me complaining, although deep down in my heart there is a longing for the time past when there was one faithful person so dear and so near who would have nursed me through any illness so tenderly.
Feeling lethargic, I am content to stay indoors but too tired to even hold the paintbrush let alone thinking of what to paint yet so many images passing through my head but capturing them is quite impossible.
What to read? My head and eyes are heavy with a cold that is hard to concentrate on any book. From an old radio the music of ABC classic FM help soothing the discomfort as I sit on my worn armchair staring out through the large sliding window at my little backyard, finding my heart sings with the loving memory of when he built this garden for me: humble in size yet rich in the effort of how it tried to survive through the last few years.
*“… Power sows in the depths of my heart, and I reap and gather in the grain, bestowing it lavishly upon the starving. Spirit revives this small vine, and I crush its bunches of grapes and pour out the juice for the thirsty…….. Human beings cling to matter that is as cold as snow whereas I seek the flame of love so that I might place it in my breast, where it will devour my ribs and destroy my insides, For I have discovered that matter kills painlessly, but love revives us through torments…”
I open my eyes and wondering where I am or what time of the day it is? Oh yes, I am having a bad cold and my head is spinning…
With green mint, cool parsley, sweet basil, and sunny thyme made a perfect dinner of herbs added with refreshing coriander and common chives, all from the garden herbs box you built for me on the deck.
“…Where I may sit and rightly spell. Of every star that heaven doth show, and every herb that sips the dew. Till old experience do attain, to something like prophetic strain…”
Parsley that you can smell with your heart and rosemary for remembrance of you and of love, while sage gives me the wisdom and courage to change the things I can. And thyme! O thyme of sweet aroma, for my cup of tea.
This painting was inspired by Shelley’s poem that we read together. I used the aboriginal art creating a story of love separated by heaven and earth between oceans, rivers… and never the twain shall meet.
How I love the silence of the evening sky. Across the bay, clouds gathering throwing clear reflection over the calm water below, waiting for the sun to set. Behind, the moon is about to rise. All of a sudden, a beautiful creature appeared, he was out also on his walk waiting for the moon?
I turned from one look at the moon and he was gone.