by admin | Oct 9, 2026 | Newsletter, Poetry
A heartfelt reflection by Clare on the slow progress of Dementia in her mother, Rita Reid.
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A Slow Unraveling
Clare Reid March 24, 2025
The words come
With such struggle now.
Stuck behind the veil
of this cruel disease
But in her eyes
I still see love
Unwavering
She slips away
Not a sudden loss,
but a slow unraveling
Echoes
of the woman she once was
I am the nurturer now
Protector of the woman
who once held me close
and caught my tears
In a twisted way,
I find fulfilment
I am in charge now
I am the adult
I need to be strong.
Push away my tears –
It is harder for her,
Trapped inside a mind and body
that no longer serve her
It hits me in waves
Not a sudden grief,
but a tide that ebbs and flows
One day I realise:
I’ll never be able
to ask her advice
like I once could
Never hear her voice
unburdened by aphasia
Never have her hold my child like I imagined
And it hits me,
deep in my chest
An ache so raw
The tears spring to my eyes,
Always just below the surface
She is still there,
but so much harder to find
Her art remains
A thread of purpose
She collects eucalyptus leaves,
marvels at their tones and textures
She notices the details
others overlook,
translates this beauty with brushes and paint
Her struggles
make my heart ache
I want to fix it.
I yearn to fix it
To hear her words fall freely
To end the frustration
To take away her confusion
And give her certainty in a world that
Makes no sense
She loved me so deeply
She loves me so deeply
I carry tender memories:
of countless bedtime stories,
a love of books and words
Dolls and dresses,
made from her own hands
Teaching me to sew, to crochet, to create
Feeding my imagination,
nurturing creativity
making magic
out of what we had
Picnics, libraries,
botanic gardens
rivers
bush walks
fairy glens
She gave me
a magical childhood
The one she never had
She endured so much
as a child
That little girl
who only wanted to spin and twirl,
but who was burdened
By the fears and paranoia of a mother broken by the Catholic Church
And yes
I wish she had pushed me more, encouraged me
to push through fear
But she only wanted
the best for me
did what she thought was right.
She spoke of my guardian angel
always looking after me
But she
Was my guardian angel
Fading, slipping away, but still there
She is gentle,
innocent,
finding beauty in the smallest things
And yet, there are shadows
She was there for me,
but she couldn’t be
the parent
my sibling needed.
Regrets,
pain,
what ifs –
the complicated feelings
Her frustration taken out on those who care for her most
But through it all
There is love
I carry the thread
I carry the love and the childhood magic
I weave it into something new
by admin | Oct 9, 2026 | Nature & Spirituality, Newsletter, Poetry
For the past 2 years Krista and my lives have been upended; by the unexpected, naturally! I won’t go into the details … but it probably suffices to say old age ain’t for the faint hearted, even though it can be expected!
And it’s not just Krista and I as others associated with EGST, and the Trust itself, are affected by this phenomenon: the unexpected.
To quote Br. Edwin “Why me?!”
One of my “go-to” mechanisms for coping with stress is to get out into nature –that’s a story for another time, maybe – with or without my camera. Such events have been limited for me recently but midwinter I was down in the gully below our house looking for fungi – to photograph, not eat! While processing these images one stood out, not for its intrinsic quality, but for what was in it that I had not seen (and had never seen, ever): a tardigrade! I’d been so focussed on the fungus, that the little gem was not part of my awareness.
I used the image to make a greeting card, and wrote a poem to go with it:
Life can do that sometimes,
throw up something unexpected!
We never know what’s around the corner:
good or bad, but likely unexpected.
We might not even notice it until …
until we’ve seen it for the first time!
It may be hidden, or out of focus, and then,
suddenly it’s there, a revelation!
Tardigrade are tiny animals (this was less than half a mm!) and are also called moss piglets or water bears. They are well known for their ability to survive severely extreme environments, even outer space!
I use a macro photography technique called “focus bracketing”. I take several images of the subject, focussing on different parts of it, and then process them by “focus stacking”, where software combines the sharpest part of each image into a single image. Here I’d taken 30 images focussing from the front to the back of the fungus, and my little critter had crawled into the frame from behind the fungus just in time to be in focus on the last couple of frames. Wow!
Sometimes the unexpected can be devastating. This was revelatory, and for me the circumstances of its creation makes this image one of my favourites!
The moral of the story: Expect the unexpected, there may be a silver lining!
by admin | Oct 8, 2026 | Newsletter, Poetry
Hanging like a dew drop on the bush
Two pearls, iridescent in the morning sun.
Shivering gently with the awakening breeze
That cause goose bumps on the unwary skin.
But what of these two pearls that hang
reflecting in their glory?
God made them.
And for a time, they shine together,
Then disappear in the morning sun.
However – they will be back again tomorrow.
Br Edwin Thomas Lloyd-Jones 1995
Photo by Debbie Osiecki. Visit Debbie on Facebook or Instagram.
by admin | Oct 8, 2026 | Newsletter, Poetry
I like Spring because flowers bloom,
And sunshine fills the sky.
The little birds go chirp, chirp, chirp,
As they fly up high.
At the campground I can see
Bluebells dancing in the breeze.
And jasmine grows upon the vine
Near the chapel trees.
Spring is bright and warm and new,
With colours everywhere.
I love Spring because it shows
God’s love and wonderful care.
By Ella Swan
by admin | May 12, 2026 | Newsletter, Poetry
Photo by Peter Sands
Given that SE Australia has just been subjected to mid-April highland snow, followed by a record-breaking May heat-wave I revisited the following I first wrote in April over 20 years ago …
Autumn has been warm, a lingering of summer beyond the end of late evenings into the shortening days which herald the coming of winter. Calm sunny days have been interspersed with short periods of gales and frigid showers, the precursors of winter.
One morning, as I examined the weather map in the paper, I sensed a tension in the air, as if a great battle is being enacted out across the spaciousness of these Southern lands and oceans …
The Gods of Summer and Winter are battling
for a change of the seasons.
It’s Autumn!
A high-pressure ridge extends down the eastern seaboard.
At its centre there is calm, a balmy and benign peace.
Lows to the south-west thrust fronts northwards,
with jagged fangs threatening
the bitter bite of Winter’s cold.
For now, hot strong winds roar from the north,
the sun desiccates the land, fires burn.
The God of Summer exerts a last tenuous hold!
But inexorably, inevitably, change will come.
As the wind strengthens, clouds gather
around the mountain behind the city.
Suddenly, the wind ceases!
A warm, humid and clammy hand descends
on the landscape, adding to a deepening dusk.
With the fading of the light the wind shifts – to the south!
Icy squalls race up the river while
freezing showers dash down the mountain valleys
and across the city.
Diners and theatre goers exit their warm shelter,
collars turned up against Winter’s bite,
and hurry homewards as another cycle
begins in an interminable battle,
a see-sawing quest for balance between
irreconcilable and incompatible opposites.
Thoughts turn to the Winter months ahead,
with long nights, dull days, and bitter winds,
or to the times of four seasons in one day
when south-westerlies rule our lives,
cleansing the air we breath, and our hearts.
A time when Earth retreats into herself,
a time for reflection, renewal,
and the reconciliation of opposites.
Peter Sands
Late April 1994 and 2026.
Photo by Peter Sands
by admin | Oct 14, 2023 | Poetry
Poet Ian Mcfarlane’s latest book, Wintersong: New and selected verse, published by ginninderrapress.com.au is now available. It includes an introduction by award-winning poet, Dr Tim Metcalf, and explores cultural, political and environmental themes.
Ian McFarlane considers poetry to be a conversation with the imagination of anyone prepared to listen. His verse is both free and rhythmic, spanning its own inclusive path. Ian is an award-winning writer of fiction, essays and book reviews. Despite the crippling handicap of anxiety and depression, he has used words and ideas in defence of social justice, the environment and psychological well-being for many years. He now lives in a Canberra retirement village with his wife, Mary.