Day 45

Written 2 May, 2020.

Where I  fell to earth (Edward Bunkse’s phrase not mine but it feels like mine, I need it so much ) was in the bush of the Blue Mountains. In a family of terror, I  spent all my time just wandering around valley and trees, fingering leaves.The bush became my sanity, my strength, my cathedral.  So it takes a lot to frighten me here. But yesterday, i was spooked. 40 knot winds officially, but the way the wind funnelled down the creek seemed like the world’s end. I hid in the creaking house, and wrote rubbish work.

The pelicans said No worries.

Pick- up- food- day from Homer’s Cafe at last. But we decided to survive on warrigal greens  (sorrel for K) and the last of the lentil pasta. Unexpectedly, Dy came by and said he’d run out of petrol for his generator and was going to Brooklyn- did we want anything? I tried to talk him out of it, but no- so I asked him to pick up our food. I rang Homer’s Kitchen- Dy would arrive soon.

Waves were becoming breakers. The water was in whirly-whirlies.

MVI_4588

Fifteen Minutes later, Dy turned back.

I’ve got to learn how to live here, he said. We lent him petrol.

I rang Homer’s Kitchen again- Dy wouldn’t be arriving. They’ll hold the food there, keeping the cold stuff in their freezers, till Monday. No worries.

Our survival depends on angels.