While Not Working

I spent nearly a week in the little house on the hill. In the mornings I made a cup of tea and sat outside, watching the sun rise over the forest. Every leaf and flower sparkled with raindrops, black cockatoos and currawongs competed with kookaburras for a place in the morning chorus, and the magnolias moved from bud to bloom in the space of a day.  In the absence of running hot water I became a master of bird bathing with sufficient speed to stay warm. Not a bird bath I spent the days with family as they navigated the slow, inevitable progression toward the end of a loved one's life, moments of activity and action balanced by time measured only by words breathed quiet, the ebb and flow of pain escaping the neat regimentation of minutes and seconds. Flowers jostled for space on the top of the fridge; tears flowed; jokes were told and visitors reminisced on the moments, both big and small, that added up to one single life. In what was becoming a tradition of my clan, a spontaneous f...

We were rapidly approaching a double-up of house sits, which required both Roger and I to be present for separate houses and pets. Up in Queensland, someone got sick and the window of opportunity for me to visit them before the double ups was small, so I found myself on an aeroplane as the sun rose on a clear Adelaide morning. I've never seen men with big guns in an Australian airport before. I certainly didn't expect to see them in boring little Adelaide airport. Sunrise. We took off with a fine view of Adelaide City, and then flew over a rumpled carpet of cloud until well over NSW.  Once the clouds had gone the day was fine, if hazy, and a roaring tailwind sped the plane on its way. I followed progress on Maps, identifying the town's and rivers and mountains and roads over which I'd driven so often. Indeed, I had a grand time taking lots of photos and generally being very happy that I had a window seat. Rumpled clouds gave way to rumpled hills. River lines. I was trea...

Some days I'm full of beans and can zoom off on my bicycle, ironing out hills and demolishing head winds at awesome speeds like 15 kph.  Other days the road may as well be made of glue, the slightest breeze threatens to destroy any cycling equilibrium that I may have gained, and even the downhills are a struggle.  That's just the way it rolls when riding and, as I discovered recently, the way it works when hiking as well. Puffed up with my recent achievements of 200km/month since the start of the year, I decided to do something different and go for a walk instead. On a very cold dull day I caught the train down to Marion to partake of the Marion Coastal Walk to Hallett Cove Conservation Park.  The sea was still, barely a wave to slop up onto the rocks. With sea and sky the same colour, it was sometimes difficult to see where one ended and the other began. Big ships marched up and down the horizon on their way to or from Port Adelaide. The path followed the sea closely, tr...

If you thought nothing much was happening in the world of WhileNotWorking, you'd be right.  Cold, wet winter did not encourage adventures, and we settled into our cosy house sit with the cat demanding regular brushing and a lap to lie in.  When a break in the weather came along I decided, in honour of the start of the new month and my ongoing quest to average at least 200km/month for the entire year, to do something different and go for a bike ride.  Roger, keen to take his new super quick Cannondale for a spin, wound up his rabbit legs and came too.  We caught the train to Seacliff to take advantage of a tailwind as we rode the foreshore from south to north. The train wasn't very full, even though the football was on.  The passengers were in two camps: people like us with bikes in tow, and people all dressed up in football colours. Serious train moment. It was a quick trip down to the sea from Seacliff railway station.  I found a bike buddy on the way. ...

Rain fell, with cameo appearances by thunder, lightning, and hail. The river Torrens, acting like a real river for once, overran all the little weirs along its length and managed a robust flow out to sea.  Every creek and gully in the Adelaide Hills became a waterfall tumbling in a hurry in homage to gravity. Hordes of Adelaideans put on their puffer jackets, grabbed their umbrellas, and headed out to look at waterfalls.  We were no exception, and decided to follow the crowds to First Waterfall at Morialta Conservation Park, where we stood a good chance of spotting a bonus koala or two. I left early and rode my bike along the Torrens, through the city, and up to Thorndene Reserve where Roger met me and off we went to Morialta for a picnic and a spot of waterfall viewing. Torrens doing grown-up river things. Existential angst on the Torrens Linear Path. Picnickers swarmed all over the Morialta Conservation Park picnic area. Mobs of little children found all the muddiest spots a...

 Roger, on an impulse, bought a bike. He walked past Cash Converters and it called to him from the rabble of unwanted road bikes that usually cluster out the front of Cash Converters. He went to look and the bike became more interesting the more he looked: internal hub; belt drive; nifty built-in LED lights; and a single left-side fork (is it still a fork if it only has one side?) He came home and thought about it. Then he went back to Cash Converters and came home with the Cannondale Bad Boy for a bargain price of about $2000 less than what it was worth. Of course having a new bike was no good if he didn't ride it so in no time at all we were off for a ride on the Parklands Trail around the city.  Did you know someone stole half your forks?   And off he went like a rabbit, on a mission to see how fast he could go. We zoomed along the the pathways through Victoria Park, or one of us zoomed and the other one plugged along taking photos and procrastinating and generally no...