Springtime in theHeart (of Rowville)

Within walking distance from our house is the Churchill National Park. I don't walk there as much as I should because there are no dogs allowed, and "Monty" is a dog.



Today I "snuck" out on Monty, toiled my way through the park to the top NE gate which opens out into the Lysterfield park area. It was there I discovered the "Woodland Walk". I walked along there for about a Kilometer until the track turned left and disappeared down a steep gully. I stopped, I'd been caught before, what goes down just has to come up again. Like New Guinea!



The log (above) looked good, even though it teetered a little as I sat on it.
I opened my sandwich, poured out my milk coffee and enjoyed the sun on my back and the sweet silence of the Australian bush. I thought to myself, "it doesn't get much better than this"
After my repast I thought to open a little New Testament I had with me, thinking to myself, "God might have something to say to me"
I was reading in The Acts of the Apostles, where an angel had led Peter out of a prison and he found himself knocking on the door of a house where people had gathered to pray for his release, and they didn't let him in because they wouldn't believe the girl who was telling them that Peter was at the front door, what a laugh!
Suddenly the silence of the bush was shattered by the bounding of about a dozen kangaroos, a few of them half grown, some went by close on my left and others on my right, one even went by on my right about two metres away and at shoulder height.
I was surprised to remember afterwards that my loud response at the time was "Hooley Dooley".




I went back to the book God has out, and after a while I was aware that there was an unusual buzzing of bees. I walked over to investigate, keeping a safe distance from
source of the buzzing, I saw that hundreds of bees were going in and coming out of the hole in a dead tree pictured above. This reminded me of some of our exploits in the early days in the Mallee robbing beehives which were not always successful, but always hilarious,in retrospect.We didn't always use smoke!



After reading a little longer, I looked up and noticed several ears sticking up above the grassy edge about 30 metres away. Each pair of ears had two very curious eyes underneath them, and that was all that was showing. It looked quite comical.
One older chap took the opportunity to sneak around the side of me for a closer look but by the time I got my camera on him he was merging into the bush.



As I began to walk back I plugged in a tiny radio that I had taken along.
Australian Aboriginal people were speaking on this program about the land being their land in spite of the fact of the boat people that came along in recent days and changed nearly everything.
As they spoke I could only wonder at the spiritual aspect that permeated all there understanding.
The boat people that came now think they own the place, and as for their spirituality or lack thereof, they get terribly agitated even if they think
that it might be mentioned in schools that there is the possibility of intelligent design in the creation.
Oh dear me, did I say creation?, I think even might upset many of them.




Spring Time is great, especially Spring Time in the heart

The Shed

I made bold plans as I lay in my bed. I would do it. I would, as it were, "Storm the Bastille".My plan was as simple as it was clever. It was going to be an all out frontal attack on THE SHED



Lawlessness was prevailing out there
There would be nothing less than Revolution, a new order would prevail., (at least some sort of order)



Rubbish would be swept up, long cherished items would be thrown out in a perfunctory manner, There would be no mercy, "no prisoners would be taken"




There would be a place for EVERYTHING and EVERYTHING would be in it's place.
"You may call me a dreamer, but I'm not the only one". The sweet words were running through my mind.



The first thing that fell under my stern gaze was the weedsprayer.
It was heavy and always hard to put on my back.
My plan was clever. I would make a hook for it at shoulder height in the secondary shed. As I was doing that I noticed that the lawlessness that abounded in shed one was also rampant in shed 2



As I repaired to my computer desk for a rest, I had this quiet sense of achievement deep within, but as I surveyed my desk top unease began to creep into my conciousness.
There was something about my desk top that was like the shed, lawlessness was abounding.
The mist was lifting, I had been diverted from my noble cause by some clever subliminal message eminating from "The Shed"



What to do?
As you can see some good things come out of the shed.
Maybe a compromise is called for.
Like Wellington said when he defeated Napoleon, "It was a close run thing"
I am not giving up, I will attack again tomorrow at dawn.
"We will overcome one day" and then Conputer desk, Watch out!

Another ANZAC Day

The ANZACS were represented by the young men from Australia and New Zealand who took their places in the terrible, conflict known as World War 1, 1914-1918.
Those who were fortunate to return home with their lives have by now all joined their fallen comrades who fell on the battlefields.
Tomorrow, April 25 we in Australia and New Zealand will remember them along with all the others who served their respective countries in other conflicts since.
Two of my older brothers served in World War 2. They too have joined the fallen comrades.
My father David who passed on in 1981 told me many stories of his experiences in that WW1 conflict. His memories were very vivid.Sometimes he would tell of exploits, being mentioned in dispatches, having fun with his comrades, but at other times lamenting that he had just been a two Shillings a day murderer. I remember my sister asking my mother why my dad had reacted badly to something or other and my mother answered, "It's the war"!
In 2004 I my wife and I had the good fortune to visit the Somme are in France. It was a memorable day for us. I am adding a few photos with some comments

Sue and I at Vlllers Brettonneux. It was here on another April 25 that my Dad was mentioned in dispatches

A letter from King George, I would guess all the wounded got one. It is written in ink. I wonder if he had a host of "Ghost Writers"?

Sue at Pozziers. It was near here that her father was shot through the thigh and spent about a year in a hospital in Birmingham, some problem with infection. He was a driver bringing up 13lb shells and the German snipers would pick off the drivers

This would be somewhere in the vicinity where my dad was hit by a wizbang which removed his right shoulder muscle as well as other damage. His wound was in the 'light" category although it was thought he would never be able to raise his arm above his head. He had come to the conclusion that nothing would ever hit having had so many very close shaves, but said that as he made his way to safety he thought everything was going to hit him!

Our youngest son Ben became our tour guide and was later able to go into Belgium (vicariously for me!), where my dad also fought and lost many comrades

Villers Brettoneux again with the town itself in the distance.

Outside Villers Brettneux school museum, unfortunately shut on the one day I could be there.


Moquet Farm was up near the pine trees, the paddock in foreground was a mass of tunnels and concrete, almost impregnable.

Writing on the plaque

LEST WE FORGET

One Year in the Life of Donald Holt

Several years ago I read a book that made quite an impression on me.
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich written by Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn.

Solzhenitsyn, December 11, 1918 – August 3, 2008) was a Russian novelist, dramatist and historian. Through his writings, he made the world aware of the Gulag, the Soviet Union's labour camp system, and for these efforts Solzhenitsyn was exiled from the Soviet Union in 1974. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1970. He returned to Russia in 1994. He was the father of Ignat Solzhenitsyn, a conductor and pianist. He died at home after years of declining health on August 3, 2008.

August 3 2008, just a few weeks ago, his passing is worth a mention.

We all have our days, our years and our own story and all the stories are worth a mention. I often can't recall what I what I did yesterday, but 2008 have has some moments, probably mundane, ordinary, but I would hazard a guess that that people in situations like the one Ivan Denisovich was depicted in would gladly change me places.
My BLOG entered on January 26 is about the Great Grand daughter of the year.
February 23 is about the wedding of the year
And just a week or two ago our fifth son Simon was awarded the Book of the Year.
The book is titled "God Next Door" (Acorn Press), and of course I'm proud of him.
I'm sure you will find something about this on Simon's Page which is found on a column on this BLOG Site.
On the 7th of June, my wife Peta Sue suffered a stroke from which she has made a remarkable recovery, for which we thank God.
On June 25 I had a Carpal Tunnel release done on my left hand, that's worth a mention!
Children and Grandchildren have traveled all over the globe through this period, to mention a few, Our oldest son, Mark, visited Zimbabwe, Grandson Kamis returned home from the Middle east area, Granddaughter Gemma is in London after touring parts of Europe and Grandson Jarred is, of all places, in Iceland!
The furthest afield that Sue and I have got is to the Gold coast, and I have a picture to prove it