The Japanese Windflower understands.

Japanese Windflower

This picture explains it all. If the purpose of life is to worry about what has been or what is yet to come, contemplate this flower. It asks for nothing more than to be looked at or ignored (at own risk). The choice is up to the viewer.

This photo was taken with my old iPhone. I really liked the previous misty looking results of the photos till my grandson wiped the lens clean with his T-shirt. All done in one single swipe. Since then the images are clearer and more colourful.

Before I forget. Remember this governments promise to take in an extra 12000 refugees from those that followed the exodus out of Syria back in September 2015. So far, just 26 have arrived.

“Canada has resettled 800 times more Syrian refugees in three months than Australia has in almost twice the time, fuelling concern the delay is pushing desperate families in the Middle East into a perilous crossing to Europe.

Labor has called on Immigration Minister Peter Dutton to explain why Australia has resettled just 26 Syrian refugees five months after former Prime Minister Tony Abbott announced an emergency intake of 12,000 “as quickly as possible”.
Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/federal-politics/political-news/canada-has-rescued-800-times-more-syrian-refugees-than-australia-figures-show-20160217-gmw7dz.html#ixzz424nz9Uld

Actually, The Japanese windflower does take an exception by not understanding Australia’s stance on refugees.

We will again now take Milo on his walk and try come to grips with this latest. We are having  gloriously warm weather, two weeks in a row now, with the promise of another warm week to come. I see people carrying air conditioning units to their cars. The elderly are advised to not forget to drink lots of water and to take it easy.

‘Take it easy.’  This is what my father was told repeatedly back in 1956. Take it easy, Mr Oosterman. Don’t muck it up for us. They meant, that working hard would also then be required for those that did not pull their weight. Not pulling their weight was hugely popular in Australia during those earlier times. It was almost an entitlement that needed to be protected by all means. The balance between workers and bosses was a fine line, well understood. A kind of understanding that no strike would be undertaken if the workers were given leeway in getting paid for a fair day’s work, but not too hard. ‘Taking it easy,’ was understood by both. Funny that. A fair day’s work included plenty of smokos and generous breaks. Double time for Sundays and Saturday afternoons with the mornings time and a half.

It had more than a kernel of truth. Now ‘hard work’ has become the norm. Working days are getting longer and absent parents through work is normal. Kids come home with the key to the front door under the mat. Many mums and dads working, scratching enough to pay the mortgage and put food on the table.  Glass ceilings are crashing down. People look pale and hurried scurrying past each other. Shopping in a hurry. Cars screeching around the corner. Not giving way. Only the retired calm and serene. Feeding the ducks and wondering about the beauty and understanding of the Japanese wind flower with a Milo sleeping.

Taking it easy, lost and gone.

 

Japanese Windflower

Japanese Windflowers

“Have you seen our Japanese windflowers this morning Gerard?” This was said by H as the first morning conversation, waiting to get responses. “Yes, I looked at the windflower first thing while grinding the coffee, they look magnificent and so very white too”, much nicer than the pink ones”, I added.

The morning was now on its way.

I often wonder how those long range couples get through those first few minutes after waking. I assume that most wake up in tandem and at the same time. We do. That’s what longstanding relations achieve, a synchronisation of differences. What do we say after waking? Of course, during those earlier working years many people would just hurry out of bed, chew their toast before hurling themselves in the bus, car or train and few words would have have found a way out between the crumbs of toast slushing around a quick mouthful of coffee.

The mortgage had to be paid, kids had to be gotten to school, the car’s green slip was due and the cat was on heat or had mange. Things were on the go. If words were spoken, I assume, they would have been of a more practical nature. Perhaps words like: “don’t chuck your underpants on the floor and please, please, don’t leave skid marks in the toilet'” followed by “it’s not very romantic and considerate.” “Don’t forget the gas bill, we are on last notice”.

I doubt staring at windflowers first thing in the morning would have featured much during those earlier hectic working times.

The week-ends would be chewed up by chores. The lawn would get mowed, the carpet vacuumed, the toilet scrubbed, kids taken to soccer or ballet. .

That final reward for having pulled through. It is desired by many but achieved by so few. The secret is so by the hand, so obvious. It is right in front of our eyes. It is, “Small talk.”

“Small talk.” It is the margarine spread generously on the stone baked bread of relationships. The oil that lubricates couplings with wild abandonments. “Small Talk”. The worn springs on our conjugal matrasses. “Small talk”, the Sally Awe’s Tiger Balm of prevention in marital whiplash rashes and ennui scab. It does make the world go around. Try it.

” How did you sleep?” “Good, but had to piss three times”, how about you?” ” I went only twice I think, I am not sure, perhaps three times as well.” “Do you want sugar this morning?” Yes, just give me half a spoon, I can do with some sugar.” “I think the Arabia Victoria is still the best”. “So do I, it is the best coffee.” “Jesus, I hope this Government is going to get sacked soon.” “So do I, that bloody Morrison, he is just the pits.” ” He is.”

The day is now truly on its way.