After the insistent, whipping squalls and sullen clouds, our fretful phone calls and the unending wiping down of the rows of plastic chairs, we’re submerged in sunlight. It streams through our hair as we amble back down the aisle beneath the soft serenity.
I love how we’re laughing at someone off-stage. It’s a mystery starring an unseen, comedic protagonist. Is Lukey saying something brash? Or is JB making a quirky quip? Can you remember? Will we ever know?
I’m in the middle of a guffaw and you’re on the edge of chuckling. It’s an affirmation, the reassurance of our world’s axis spinning as it should, a sunny instant in an impeccable day.
Kapunda High, our joyous, kindly school, is in the background watching approvingly, nodding in wise appreciation having stood witness to our teenage lives and then from both near and afar, our adulthood. A mere twelve months after this special occasion the beloved building, Eringa, was devoured by those diabolical flames and we impatiently await its reconstruction.
See the fluttering flower petals caught delicately in your curled, tumbling hair, as it cascades onto your dress: impossibly pretty, bold and deeply considered, the turquoise an exquisite, arresting hue.
With hands clasped, we’re hitched triumphantly, at ease and brightly expectant, stepping into our afternoon.
Immersion in nature. It’s profoundly important as both prevention and cure. Late on a recent Sunday Alex and Max accompanied me down to Old Noarlunga where following some detective work we located the hiking trail. A narrow path took us along the river by some ancient gum trees. All during the hike there was a stream of natter. School, basketball, friends, basketball, stuff. With dappled light drenching us we worked hard to climb the steep rise by the pipeline and were rewarded to our west with the silently glistening sea.
Kitchen Confidential
Although I’m not a foodie (my greatest passion is getting my schnitzel off the poor chips) I’ve long been a fan of Anthony Bourdain’s storytelling and crisp, assured language use. Drawing me to his cinematic travelogues his skill in locating the story within the story was always a joy. So, I finally got my hands on his celebrated memoir and will attack it over the next week.
Glenelg Scoreboard
Professional sport increasingly seeks to cannibalise its competition and footy is no exception with the AFL beyond shameless in this. I reckon winter sport should begin in April, and it was Good Friday when I ambled down for the Tigers’ first home game. The sun set just before half-time. The new scoreboard grabbed my focus with its dazzling imagery and was a lighthouse in the oceanic dark. Old scoreboards sometimes attract more affection than deserved and Glenelg’s new screen is a bold addition, especially when we’re spanking the Filth in front.
Winery Picnic
Cheese, olives, chutney, crusty bread. Evil, magnificent, cured meats. A secluded table. Sheltering trees. A frisky cabernet sauvignon. Sunday lunch at Golding.
Lana Del Ray
Just released, (I won’t say dropped like the kids) the ninth album from the New York-born but West Coast resident continues her lush arrangements, engaging vocals and deepening, Hollywood-noir mythology on Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd. Among many highlights is ‘Let The Light In’ featuring harmonies from Father John Misty and this is a pairing of two terrifically matched voices, equal parts honey, murky sultriness and soaring elegance. It’s a Leonard Cohen nod to forbidden love and as always, the lyrics leave plenty of space for the listener to wander the landscape of broken dreams.
Anniversary
April 10. The deep and joyous value of our wedding anniversary is being rushed back to the time and place when the often-unknowable universe finally consented to my simplest, most profound dream. How great to experience this wonder every year.
Italy
Departing Adelaide, we’ll enjoy Lake Como. Cinque Terre. Pisa. Milan. Florence. The Last Supper. The Statue of David. West End Draught. Opera at La Scala.
mickeytales 