Honeysuckle

I used to cycle through the Dorset lanes buoyed up by the heady fragrance of honeysuckle. At the time it made a lot of things easier.

Now I cycle to work along the Honeysuckle foreshore in Newcastle. Honeysuckle grew along the banks of the Hunter River (Coquon) long before the settlers came. The wattle birds were attracted to the emitted soft scents and had no inkling of the dirt and destruction that would be caused by the deposits of coal found in this new settlement.

Today the area is paved, the dirty railyards have gone (not in Tighes Hill or Carrington thanks to Port Waratah) The pathway linking the inner city suburbs is fringed with salubrious high rise apartments mostly housing the newly retired coming up from Sydney. They are attracted by the harbour, the beaches and the harbour life.

Old warehouses are being turned into expensive dining options, gyms and museums. Former dockland is being landscaped with sculpture and seating areas around the reclaimed boat sunk in the harbour many years ago.The boat had been used for target practice and was unceremoniously sunk. Now it has a new life, deconstructed and reassembled into an installation wafted by the sweet smell of garlic at a nearby Italian restaurant.

Installations come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and I recently heard that the piles of books or unorganised items loitering around your house could be said to be wondrous art installations. Welcome to my gallery!

Reflections on being a mother

I am a little late, it being nearly a week since the much celebrated Mother's Day. But it is a time when we reflect on what it means to be a mother. Memories rueful, memories laughable, memories poignant and memories ridiculous.
So what do I most remember?
Looking at two little heads covered hopefully with Father Christmas hats fast asleep on their pillows and wishing I had a partner to say, "Come and look, aren't they adorable!"
Peeling onions in the kitchen with my eldest crying tears of laughter as we looked at each other in swimming goggles trying to avoid the tears!
Locking the doors to foil the determined exit of my youngest who complete with pyjamas in her backpack was running away to spend the night on Lewesdon Hill.
So happy to find other parents who actually liked swimming and felt it natural to spend hours in chlorine laced pools watching slim figures slice their way through to the next PB (that stands for personal best, something I did learn).
Reaching the sun gate gazing down at Machu Picchu holding one daughter faint and weak with Montezuma's revenge and smiling at the other with the sheer achievement of it all.
The despair when you are far away and not able to surround them with loving arms and kiss it all better.
The homemade cards and the sentiments within - unconditional love indeed. How you have made my life worthwhile. To my darling daughters, I love you both.