Recently my son’s school went for a cultural day with some local Elders.
The day began with a Welcome to Country.
Welcome to Country – June Perkins
The children broke into smaller groups and some went for a rainforest walk to learn about the plants.
It rained on the way so some of the students made hats out of leaves.
Elder Talking about Plants – June Perkins
The children learnt about weaving. They had to watch carefully.
Weaving Elder – June Perkins
Some made a very good attempt at it. A few managed, with some assistance, to nearly finish small baskets.
Weaving – by June Perkins
Then a yummy damper, made by the Elders for lunch, was enjoyed by all. It was topped with syrup.
Every single piece went.
Cutting up Damper – June Perkins
The children shared their fruit with the Elders and also teacher aides made the Elder’s warm cuppas as they worked with the children.
Reciprocity is important!
The children attempted to make smoke, traditional style, and mainly made their hands warm! No chance of any fire in the forest. Lots of rain around too.
Making Smoke – June Perkins
The children did some painting on bark and paper. One of the teacher aides put a dot for every child who came on the excursion onto some bark.
She hopes this event happens with even more organisation and participation from community next year.
Bark Painting – June Perkins
On the way home we all visited the information centre to view some artifacts. We had to go in, in small groups as it was a small building.
There were some examples of baskets and shields within.
Information Centre- June Perkins
The day ended with a bus trip back to school and time for everyone to reflect on what they had learnt.
A slide show of the trip was shared at school that evening.
A copy of all the photographs, including some not featured here or on the public flickr link is with the school
Family Rituals is the next theme for ABC Open’s 500 Words. Thinking of summer coming up and family – I couldn’t help but think and write of our many games of cricket!
What are your family rituals?
Cricket – A Family Ritual – June Perkins
Backyard waits.
The lawn’s mowed to resemble the perfect cricket green of our imagination.
Bats out.
Reality. We gather stumps, make shift – they might be a bin, or plastic wickets, or even more up market free standing metal ones.
Next each family member is called, usually loudly and persuasively by youngest, whose life calling is in this ritual.
It’s late afternoon, he knows better than to try in the midst of Queensland heat.
Hats on, sunscreen even for the late hour, and out we go.
‘Who’ll bat first?’
Not their Dad, he’ll slog it too much and make us run all over, although he also bats deliberate catches when he’s had enough allotted time at the crease and needs to quench his thirst.
Eldest loves to bowl. He’s even filmed his brother and his own bowling actions so both can improve. He will bowl fast and hard, because he’s training youngest. No easy balls from him.
I picture the Waugh brothers putting each other through their paces.
It can be serious stuff this backyard cricket.
Fielders into position, youngest into bat. Eldest bowls. No mercy, but youngest is gaining talent day by day, and he can bat when the going is tough, later he will have a great day batting at the super eights in primary. ‘Thanks big bro,’ he will say.
Mum (that’s me) positioned with camera for a capture of this classic ritual but ready to set it down for a catch, maybe.
Then it’s Dad batting against bowling eldest son, and there’s a true battle on. He’s determined to have his Dad out.
‘Give it your best son!’
It’s on for young and old.
Youngest children are spectators now and I am sole fielder.
Hubby slogs it, grins – and eldest paces back, Lillee like, to his run up. The ritual is repeated. Each child has a bowl to him, but it’s a field day. One day they’ll have him out!
Daughter varies, sometimes she’s in for the game and other times she’s doing something more interesting in the garden, like filling a bucket with water, what’s she up to, the mind boggles.
Now she’s called to attention, ‘grab that ball.’
Little Athletics was short lived for her; she just liked playing in the long jump/ sand/ pit too much.
There’s variations on this ritual – now we head of to the beach, and the scene is played out again, but this time there’s soft sand, ocean and people walking their dogs, who sometimes like to field.
At times there’s additional family members on visits, after long absences from grandchildren’s lives.
Again I am poised with camera, until called to the crease, to enjoy slogging the ball, and having my kids dart, crab like, everywhere on the sand.
Poppy’s into it, enjoying building the drama. He keeps spare tennis balls in his shirt pocket, for when others end up out too far in the ocean.
Daughter is not left out; she takes to the crease, and does her best. Poppy’s a gentle bowler. Now she’s also keen to bowl. She’s working to perfect her technique.
Now she’s attempting fielding, but not for long, soon the bucket is being filled with goodies to make into art when she arrives home.
Dreaming.
For a moment we play heroes like Watson, Ponting, O’Donnell, Lillee and Marsh. We are beyond the backyard, beyond cricket hero boundary times– and on perfect cricket greens.
The Inspiring Nance – who will always embody true love with her dear husband Ray
My film mentors – Leandro and Mick for their inspiration and practical tips
Along the way I’ve asked the people whose stories I was writing, when I could, if it was okay to share the stories on the blog.
Friends have written me the most touching emails responding to the stories. One friend phoned me saying she had shed happy and emotional tears after reading the piece on her, and was so happy that I understood her so well. Precious photographs have also begun to arrive.
I have reconnected to many friends and realised how much I miss them as they now live in Germany, Tasmania, Victoria, and places unknown. Yet each person has a place in my heart, and played a part in shaping me.
I think perhaps it’s time to write my memoirs, in tribute to the people who’ve inspired me to live the best life I can and make the most of the talents and opportunities I have.
And for those I missed, there’s more stories on the way. So stay tuned.
Let me know which story resonated for you the most, here or under the story concerned.
Thank you so much for following my blog challenge.
I want to remember what it was like to live out near the cane, on the way to a waterfall, where the wallabies, goannas and bandicoots roam.
We have had wallabies come visiting in the back yard. They run around until they work their way to front gate and hop out again.
The other day we saw a massive goanna with two young ones. She was enormous! I wonder if they’ll be back and what they are eating.
At night the bandicoots keep finding their way under the house, and make a huge racket. Wish we would secure down there better so they would go somewhere else.
One of the saddest things was recently seeing two wagtails lose their baby which fell out of its nest.
We couldn’t take it away from them as they were so distressed and crying, but they also couldn’t take it back to the nest it had fallen from. They hung around for hours before they gave up. The baby bird tried to fly so hard! Not sure where it ended up.
We watched as they kept swooping down and feeding it.
Quandry save it and then release, or let the parents say goodbye to their baby.
We lost a quail to a cat, and its partner who was safe in another cage with a baby, didn’t see it dead, and therefore kept crying for the return of its partner.
We realised we should have just presented its dead partner to it on death’s door for parting goodbyes. Our surviving quail cried for months and months. It used to make me feel so sad for her.
Two of our other quails were eaten by a snake. We saw the bumps in its tummy as the snake collector came and took it away.
I think that’s why I left the baby in the garden for the parents to say goodbye too. The children imagine it was taken back to the nest by magic.
It’s very sad.
When the cane was burned, one side effect was flocks of rats, climbing the trees. Sounds like something for a fantasy novel doesn’t it. I hate rats!! Thankfully I think we’re on top of that issue. Imagine if we had a cat, I am not sure if it would be fat, or rat attacked!
The cruelty, tragedy and joy of natural life.
I am so glad we have guinea pigs! Although we have super proofed their cages to keep the snakes away and worry they might still find a way to get in they are very clever things.
An abstract painting full of swirling almost something shapes, hangs above the stairs in the hall entrance, and grabs the attention of all visitors to Nance’s.
Visitors, especially children, are always struck by it, and stop to gaze, as Nance asks them: ’What do you think it is?’ She adds their guess to all the others from earlier visitors and shares earlier interpretations, but only after they offer their own.
Nance attends University of the Third Age and is an avid reader, who has never stopped questioning and being open to the ways of the world. Although, nestled in her seaside home she has in some ways retreated from the world and carved out a nest of memory and solitude to which others are welcome.
‘What he says makes a lot of sense,’ she is telling the story of some guru in India who she has recently been reading, and recommends him to me. ‘No one has sole tabs on the truth,’ she muses.
‘So many pathways lead to the same God.’
The gifts of overseas travels and teaching sabbaticals with her husband are everywhere. He is gone, (he passed away from a heart condition) and yet near in every conversation. But this is no home of grief, but rather one where every memory is treasured and embodied in every object and the intangible it seems.
‘Yes, that’s from when Ray and I were at…’
Nance introduces us to ‘ginger kiss’ biscuits, her favourite thing to offer visitors, along with raisin toast and a cuppa.
Now, eating ginger kisses always reminds me of Nance and brings her advice back as if on fortune cookie paper running like a reel in my head.
She offers sage advice that has kept her in good stead all her life – things like ‘never go to sleep angry with your partner.’
‘If you can afford it get a housekeeper if you are working, don’t try to do it all.’
‘Children remember the love not how good a housekeeper you are’
She looks after a shack right next to her house, which is owned by the Quakers but which she can book people into too; it provides cheap accommodation for people wanting to escape the city. A visitor’s book within is full of comments from people who have enjoyed staying in house, free from television, and other distractions. It has fishing rods, board games and is a short walk to the beach.
We stay there a few times, next to Nance, in our own family space, but popping over for a cuppa and a chat during our time by the sea.
Later we go and live around the corner from Nance for a whole year whilst I am writing up my PhD.
Nance is a carer to many people, driving friends with cancer to hospital, picking up people without transport to bring them to meetings, and visiting those who cannot go out easily.
Nance’s house is neat, tidy, and a row of cyclamens dress the window sill. She can look out to the ocean from her front veranda.
Her children and grandchildren visit now and then. Later a daughter and husband will come and live in the house downstairs.
Nance shapes how I see time, true love and memory embodied in objects, spaces and people. Her sage advice is imprinted on me and comes back when I need it most.
For me she will forever be in the painting full of swirling almost something shapes, each object of the house, ginger kiss biscuits, and intangible questions, when she, like Ray, is travelling in another spiritual realm.
Smoke Art 2- Flickr Creative Commons Neilbetter
Inspired by the Who Shaped Me project for ABC Open, this month’s Pearlz Dreaming blog theme will be about the people who inspire me and there are lots of them! Goal 19 pieces on Who Shaped Me.
June Paisa Perkins 