In the Mangroves.

“If there are no mangroves, then the sea will have no meaning. It is like having a tree without roots, for the mangroves are the roots of the sea…”Words of a Thai fisher from the Andaman Coast

I have a penchant for walking through our mangroves but this is an activity that can only be accomplished at low tide & it has its drawbacks: my cats.  Last time it was Kirby who spotted me slinking off alone into the mangroves.  This time is was Marlow.  Kirby is raucous.  Marlow can barely be heard but he is persistent. As you can see his tail was well down & he is a cat who almost always carries his tail high & proud.

As I headed down the hill, a distressed Marlow wailing in my wake, we flushed the red~necked wallaby & her joey. She leapt out from almost under my feet, her joey in hot pursuit, & they fled up the hill into the safety  of 50 acres of light timber & grassland. I was so thrilled. Yeah, I know, but little things give me great joy.

Hopeful I might spot them again I headed into their sanctuary but they were not to be seen.  All we did was upset the butcher birds who squawked up a storm & took dives at Marlow, who is neither brave nor a hunter, & cowered at my feet.

I was peeved when the point got fenced off.  It is a lovely walk & the view towards Karra at the end is pleasant. The plus is it has quickly become a wildlife sanctuary, unofficial though it may be, & one is likely to see all sorts of things not to be seen elsewhere like this birdswing butterfly.  The left wing was a little crumpled so perhaps this one was newly out of its chrysalis.

There was a snake bird on the point ~ not nearly as common as the cormorants & not at all happy to see me.  The only pictures I got were the ripple left as he dived underwater for cover.

There were jellyfish too, unusual for here, & such a pretty blue.

Then this pretty little crab

As we neared the steps back up to the houses there was a great whomping & splashing to be heard: the YOB cast netting for bait. Now the sound of the bait pump is throbbing through the house keeping his bait alive for tonight & Marlow has collapsed in an exhausted heap. Meanwhile Kirby has taken up residence beside me on the desk in case I decide to wander of again without him.

Down in the Park.

It doesn't seem like 3 years since I was in bible school ~ but it is. My last term dragged as I was only carrying one subject & I could hardly wait to be done with the one subject I loathed with the sort of passion I generally keep for maths subjects: the street witness.

Not only do I seriously suck at this, I was unable to come up with a coping mechanism though I do seem to remember saying, at some point, how much easier it would be to just go & preach from a soap box.  Pretty sure most of my class thought I was barking mad but we are talking the person who avoided her B.A graduation & regretted nothing.  I was, sadly, unable to avoid my bible college graduation.  I did try but my Dean was so appalled I'd ever even had the thought I ceeded victory early because she is quite a nice woman & Witnessing was her subject & she'd had me moaning & groaning for the best part of 2 years so, you know, I thought I'd best do something nice for the woman.

Besides, I figured I was pretty safe opting for a street preaching gig as we were told in no uncertain terms that we needed a permit & no way, no how would we ever get said permit.

At the time I thought I would slip into a submissive role as one of several preachers in an established church.  As it turned out we scared the daylights out of said church & they still want nothing to do with us. *sigh* So, you know, we started our own.  It was a lot scarier than it sounds 3 years down the track.  Way more angst. I still wonder how anyone could find me frightening ...?

The thing with being Spirit filled & Spirit led is that when the Spirit says Jump! you jump. Both the Moth & I, then Rabqa when she joined us, are not into street witnessing.  We are incredibly bad at it ~ all of us, & not one of us could say with any honesty that we felt led to do it but we understood we were called to share the good news.

 I'm not a mover & shaker so it's a good thing the MOTH is. He applied for the permit for street preaching. I was so terribly sure I had nothing to worry about because I had been told, hadn't I, by a  very reliable source too, that it would never happen ~ but it did! So that was pretty clear;  I jumped.

It's embarrassing to admit how terrifying I found it at first.  No~one was beating me with rods, or chucking me off cliffs or drumming me out of town.  Not even harassment. After 3 years we only ever got rained off one Sunday.  No matter what the weather did for the rest of the week, or even before & after the park, that one hour we were in the park on the first Sunday of the month was always as dry as a bone!

Then last month we applied to our council to be in the Park every Sunday.

Doing the park is a seriously weird thing.  We share the preaching spot around but the only one who was getting excited about it was the Holy Spirit.  He was thrilled to bits ~ & a good thing too as Rabqa & I stop doing this the day He doesn't show up!  Then the MOTH decided he loved it & for a while he did most of the preaching.  He's not a preacher so just gave a straight salvation message.

I'm not the people person.  That would be the MOTH. I worship with my eyes shut.  I have been known to preach an entire message with my eyes shut. I pretty much have zero interest in what is going on around us. Not so the MOTH.  He keeps tabs ~ at least in part because he has the job of protecting the preachers & that's not a job you can do with your eyes shut.

These days we get quite a crowd.  Not up close & personal.   No, no, no.  No, they hang round the peripheries: on the jetty, under the bus shelter, inside the taxi rank, up the hill in front of the loos & hidden amongst the cars in the car parks. They wind down their windows to listen while they wait for the barge to pull in & make last ditch bolts for the boats because they want to hear as much as they can. There are regulars, returnees & the odd bods. Some of the regulars have gotten over their fright & wave to us or call hello.  We have had our salvations & believers who needed to get back on track but we don't keep tabs.  God says He watches over His word & that it does not return to Him void. All we have to do is speak it out.

A Little Gardening.

Gardening requires lots of water — most of it in the form of perspiration. ~Lou Erickson

 The first year we were here we grew pumpkins.  Pumpkins were all that would grow.  They came up in the compost & we were grateful.  We could eat the fresh green tips, the flowers & finally the fruit ~ & we did.  They were a cross between the big Queensland Blue & the stripped Jap & were the loveliest pumpkin to eat. Our kids were weaned on mashed avocado because avocados came free round here & one variety or another was always in fruit.

Queenslanders know that if you buy a block of land with the topsoil intact you are incredibly lucky.  Ours had been razzed down to the clay & ironstone & it baked in the heat until it set like cement.  The first year I got a bare 1/4 inch of black soil after dumping load after load of compost & mulch was ever so exciting but however exciting hardly enough to grow a weed in let alone a garden. We bought soil ~ probably the same soil the clearers had nicked off the place originally & I built up garden beds.

We sit on top of a little hill with lovely views over Ooncooncoon Bay but the roadside faces west & west in the Queensland subtropic summer is no fun at all.  It is hot.  It is muggy. The storms roll in with thunder & lightening & the temperatures soar until the rain steams. It doesn't so much fall as permeate the air. So the first order of business was shade, shade, shade! It is wonderful how much a good shade tree drops the temperature.

And each year round about August/September I buy seedlings, because I am far too lazy to propagate from seed, & plant out my veggies.  For most of those years I have had little hands helping ~ then they got big & took over & the garden got too big for me to manage & they grew things no~one wanted to eat, & weeds no~one wanted to weed &... well, you know how it goes.  I stopped gardening. Things got cut down I wanted to keep & things got erected that I had no idea how to dismantle & it was all too much work & I hadn't created the havoc & then of course they all left home. I had got out of the way of putting in my garden but this year I got the urge again so I weeded the little patch I like to use & tilled my soil over leaving the passionfruit & parsley alone & I planted out the things we actually eat: little cucumbers, tomatoes, beans, lettuce... I mulched. Heavily. Then CG came home...!!!

I have corn.  I don't grow corn.  It is water heavy & robs too many nutrients from the soil. I have unmulched things in pots drying out on the verandah.  I have silverbeet dying in the sink because no~one wants the trouble of planting out so many little seedlings. I have a number of *surprises* because nobody remembers the name of what got put in, *sigh*

 And meantime the pomegranate is flowering in it's pot for a third year because I can't find a big enough spot to put it & the peach is producing peaches it is too small to keep above the ground; I didn't put that in either because I prefer nectarines & the child who did is no longer here.

But as each plant pops its head through the mulch growing strong & sturdy I get a strange satisfaction, all the more bizarre because I enjoy the growing far more than I enjoy the fruits of my labour.  Another few days & I will have to tie the tomatoes & cucumbers & I should probably put the basil in the ground only I now Have corn where that was meant to go.

I have other things waiting in the MOTH's bush house: our first azaela & I do like azaelas; a raspberry though the MOTH swears they won't grow here; butter beans which will. Then, perhaps, if the summer storms drift round us & the hail doesn't cut everything to ribbons & it doesn't get too hot too soon or rain too much we will get a harvest before summer.

It's not about the Muslims.

If you have been following the Australian news at all then you have probably seen the poll saying 60% of Australians support Pauline Hanson's call for a ban on Muslim immigration to our country.

Predictably our liberal left is screaming Islamophobia, racism, xenophobia, multiculturalism & just as predictably they have completely missed the point.  It is not about the Muslims.  It is not even about Islam as such.  It is about cultural things that are anathema to many Australians, especially conservative Australians. I will go down my personal list.

• FGM.  10 million girls globally are exposed to FGM each year.  [ActionAide]

 *Analysis of ABS and UNICEF data suggests that there are 83,000 women and girls in Australia who may have been subjected to FGM. Around 5,640 girls under the age of 15 may be in danger, and 1,100 girls are born every year to women who may have had FGM. This means that three girls a day are born in Australia who are at high risk of being subjected to FGM.* The Drum

This is not something to be proud of.  Our laws expressly forbid the practise of FGM. This is not a cultural deviation.  It is child abuse.  No enlightened society should ever tolerate it.  Ever. Period.

Christianity does not practise this.

• Child Brides. The number of child brides in Australia has doubled in the past few years. Link. We have seen the increase proportionate to the increase in numbers from countries where this practise is acceptable. Economic reasons do not apply in this country. Therefore it is a religious & social custom that is unacceptable in a civilized country.  A child's body is not fully developed to engage in sex or childbirth. It is pedophilia & is illegal. Why would we want to bring this into our country? We have enough problems in this area.  Ditto domestic violence.

• Integration. It doesn't happen. 

Singapore's Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew publicly stated "we can't integrate Muslims". British Prime Minister Cameron, French President Sarkozy and German Chancellor Merkel have also stated that multiculturalism has failed in respect to Muslims. QSociety 

I know this is a generalisation but the overwhelming evidence shows that devotion to Islam trumps allegiance to country.  This is true of Christianity as well.  The difference is that Christianity is not going to kill you if you leave.  Christianity has not declared jihad on the infidels.  Christianity is not intolerant [in practice & generally] of other faiths.

No go zones in France & other Western nations have allowed for the implication of Sharia so that in effect there are now 2 different legal processes operating & it seems nothing can be done to prevent this.  One nation, one legal system for everyone ~ & not sharia!

• Sharia. The practice of Sharia is barbaric.  Devout muslims believe sharia to be God ordained & therefore to be implemented wherever possible. Most Australians do not want public executions, beatings, limbs removed for crimes, stonings, honour killings etc.  Polygamy is still illegal here.   Judeo/Christianity says one man, one woman. A youtube search will turn up *moderate* Australian imams arguing for sharia to be implemented in this country ~ & their congregation [all male] agreeing wholeheartedly. No thank you. 

Please do not quote the old testament law at me.  To do so shows a basic misunderstanding of the civil, ceremonial & moral law of the bible & its fulfilment in the person of Jesus Christ.  Completely irrelevant.

• Hallal. Why are Australians being forced to pay a tax on food items to a religion most do not follow & whose practise is abhorrent to them?

• Trust. Lastly, I have no reason to trust a religion whose stated intent is to convert me or kill me. Don't believe me? Here are some verses from the Koran:

• Slay the unbelievers wherever you find them(2:191)
• Make war on the infidels living in your neighboorhood (9:123)
• When opportunity arises, kill the infidels wherever you catch them (9:5)
• Kill the Jews and the Christians if they do not convert to Islam or refuse to pay Jizya tax (9:29)
• Any religion other than Islam is not acceptable (3:85)
• The Jews and the Christians are perverts; fight them (9:30)
• Maim and crucify the infidels if they criticise Islam. (5:33)

The problem is not muslims.  The problem is that their belief system is incompatible with Western values & Christianity. Like most Australians I don't care what faith you practise, if any, but I believe in an individual's God given right to free choice. The imposition of values I do not adhere to is abhorrent. Practise Islam if you must but leave the rest of us alone.

An ongoing saga.

She gardened all the morning & read all afternoon ~ Shirley Cane

Like many churches we run our music through a computer.  Thursday the computer crashed ~ &  Yeah, it was old. Important things like the enter key hadn't worked in months.  I'd made *we need a new computer* noises for some time but computers cost money & we don't spend the Lord's money if we don't need too so I had worked with it.

Crashes ~ well they're a whole 'nother thing.  I don't do crashes.  My computer skills are pretty limited so I was spinning because everything is on the computer!

Anyway we decided to head overseas for a new one & having arranged a car & missed 2 boats we finally left the island.

Amongst other things I have 2 white wisteria sitting in pots beside one of the bird baths.  The wisteria are one of those dramas in my life.  I like wisteria.  I would happily swathe the house in garlands of pink & purple & white but the MOTH is a horticulturists & my love of wisteria horrifies him.  I have heard, ad nauseam, how destructive it is, how invasive it is & how it's not a native. *sigh*  I know.  I know.  I still love wisteria. Anyway, I have had a purple one in a pot beside the other birdbaths for years & years though it has never flowered & the MOTH agreed that if they could be confined to pots I could have my wisteria.  He has bought the tubs: big wooden whisky tubs.  They are to sit on poles & weep.  He has begun the process of bending the longest twigs.  They immediately dropped all their leaves & the MOTH was cross thinking I had managed to kill them but they are deciduous & now, in spring, the flush of new growth is richly green.  It is time to get a move on.  So we stopped in at Bunnings & I picked up some butter beans & an azalea because after 20 odd years waiting on our canopy becoming a canopy we can finally think about our understory.

In all the hoopla we also had to help finance CG with a new computer ~ which we knew was on the cards because her old one has been at death's door for more than 12 months & without Skype we go months without speaking & that doesn't make either of us happy.  Besides she needs it for the work she does.

It was a long & fraught day. I mean, I don't like the mainland at any time. I particularly dislike shopping.  We were all tired by the time we got home again but as we bundled out of the car & began unloading, CG said: What is that bird doing?

I looked where she was looking.  I swear, even the wildlife round here is mad as hatters!  There was the chick I had rescued standing in the shallow bowl of water I had put out for the curlews.  What's with that bird & water?

A Near Disaster.

The daily existence of every bird is a remote and bewitching mystery. ~Thomas Wentworth Higginson

Down the south side of our house we have run a bush house. From the laundry door there runs a brick path that spreads under the clothes line & at the end of the path are the trees: malaluka & a big widow~maker, a bush apple that occasionally gets small bitter fruit & the small iron barks.  It is here, in the open spaces, our curlews can often be found.

Down the sides of the bush house are  the rows of hanging orchids, the tubs of water &  large white buckets the MOTH uses to propagate his lotus & water lilies. Occasionally we find the curlews drinking from the tubs but now, in September, it is getting hot.  The usual ground puddles have all dried up & the curlews have chicks.  I hadn't yet got around to putting out a low shallow bowl of water & this morning CG began screaming for me to come quick. One of the chicks had managed to fall into a tub of water but was completely incapable of getting out again though it had managed to hook its wings over the rim.

Meanwhile dad was hissing & spitting , wings spread aggressively wide while CG dithered. *sigh* They make a lot of noise on occasion but they aren't really aggressive so I ignored dad's shenanigans, scooped bubs up & popped him down on the ground to peep for mum. A very relieved little family gathered round the sodden one & they headed back to their spot under the trees to hiss & spit some more at CG.

I have put out water for them & a disaster has been neatly averted.

“Just about the time a woman thinks her work is done, she becomes a grandmother.” Edward H. Dreschnack

The thing about Toowoomba is that it's pretty. It was designed & built before electricity so no~one worried about overhead wires.  It was planted before someone decided camphor laurels were a noxious weed & lined both sides of many of its streets with trees.  Now they are huge, old, beautiful, hacked to pieces because of the overheads but still producing these glorious green avenues.  It's about the only thing I miss about Toowoomba. 

 I went to uni out here so I know what a cold old hole it can be. The prettiness & tidiness makes me claustrophobic.  There is no wild & I do like me some wild. What there is, in September, is the Flower Festival. Queen's Park is a riot of coloured blooms.

Even the knot garden...

I wasn't there for the flowers though.  Even when I lived there I avoided the festival.  You know, people, crowds...

I was there for something much more interesting...

 It's funny.  Your first you fuss & worry but after 5 you realise that given enough time they will actually go to sleep & they do it fast because you have learnt how to be really boring!

 So I changed nappies, hung out washing, drove the other car & cuddled a baby so his parents could get stuff done & now the other Grandies are having their turn. I reckon I made a super call.  His other Grandmother actually wants to be called *Grannie* ...[shudders delicately]...so  Móraí is all mine.