Wordless Wednesday - daylight saved

It's been quite a month here...

hope April brings you more than fools!

Hugs

BB

Raindrops and red roads...

I adore rain.

Love it, love it, love it.

Even ensconced in the Big City, the sound of it humming down on the roof made me smile. Even decades after being officially 'citified' I would grin like Luna Park at every cloudburst.

There it washed the smog from the skies,

the petrol fumes from my nostrils,

the salt crust from the duco.

Here, it cleanses the air,

settles the dust,

revives the countryside...

and also it's inhabitants.

It washes my soul clear of discontent.

It's raining right now.

Fat drops, roar then patter.

Kids giggling inside, horses wheeling madly in the outide shower.

Energised by the dancing of the rain.

And I smile.

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Of course, I also washed the car today for the first time in three weeks.

Red dust (that tell-tale bush brand) banished once more from my white vehicle.

I should have known better...

Because you know that equation?

White car + Rain + Red roads =

This.

Still. Smiling.
*sigh*

Dana's Legacy

I poured my heart (and more than a few tears) out recently about the shocking death of a baby girl. A baby girl who belonged to two dear friends of mine - Toni and Dave.

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Despite their shock and grief at the senseless loss of their beautiful daughter, they have been incredibly brave and faced the media and shared their story. Perhaps, they hope, it will save another family from the heart-breaking ordeal they are enduring. It might shock people out of their ignorance, their apathy in not ensuring each and every community member is immunised against a preventable, deadly disease. It has taken some almighty intestinal fortitude (in the midst of their grief) for Toni and Dave to share the image of their 4-week-old daughter as the face of the current epidemic of whooping cough sweeping through low-vaccination regions of our country.

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Toni and Dave were vaccinated, as were their two older children.

But someone, or even more than one person who came near Dana, were not.

And they carried the virus that would fly through the air and infect her.

As Toni says:

"We possibly dreamed our darling girl would be a statistic, maybe like the one percent who make the Olympic Games.

.

We never, in our worst nightmares, imagined that THIS was the statistic she would be".

...

You can read Dana's story, in Toni's own words, here.

It will break your heart.

You know, I have spoken to my grief-stricken friend a couple of times since hearing the news.

And we have been in constant email contact.

I have felt every moment of her ordeal as she shared those final, terrible days.

But only tonight, I realised something strange.

Remember when I took this photo ?

...of Violet's four-year-old immunisation band-aid.

I looked at the date, and saw that she had had her shot just two days after Dana had died.

I knew those shots were important at the time.

But I never knew just how close the threat of the disease (against which my daughter had just been vaccinated) really was.

I do now.

Please, wherever you live in the world, pass on this message and the links provided.

No-one should die of whooping cough.

Certainly not in any country that has reasonable vaccination regimes.

Certainly not in any community that values human life.

Don't let it happen again.

What (bush) women want...

One of the things I haven't really addressed too much here on this blog has been the challenges women face living in the bush. They are things that you kinda know and can imagine, but until you actually live it the reality doesn't hit home.

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One major issue is support for pregnant mums - in most cases, we simply cannot have our babies in our local towns. Shocking but true. My mother could - we were all born at the nearest town, even my brother who was a caesarian birth. The hospital is only 45 minutes from home, so Dad could easily visit her during her stay, and still keep things on track on the property.

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But these days, women must go away - up to four and five hours drive from home - to hospitals set up for maternity. It means a lot of induced births (who can afford weeks of motel accomodation - or being away from school-age older siblings -just in case Mother Nature doesn't kick in?). And it means that the usual support networks often aren't there for new mums. It's tough. And that's just if everything goes according to plan.

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Most women don't complain out loud about this situation - it's just another fact of life. There are plenty of uncomfortable little facts of life: dealing with unreliable bore water, seemingly endless power outages, poor internet and phone connections, menfolk that work six and seven days a week, rough roads and expensive groceries. These women don't see they can change things, so they just get on with it.

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Most find their own special ways of coping, of staying sane in the isolation, and celebrating their womanhood. Some do amazing hand-crafts, others create incredible gardens, a few even start little framing businesses, and some get out there in the paddock and work sunup to sundown alongside their men. Every day I am amazed and humbled by their talents, creativity, drive and generosity. The last couple of weekends at campdrafts have illustrated clearly how these women manage their worlds and maintain their feminity. It's quite a juggling act when so often they are required to be self-reliant and do 'men's work'.

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There are many female campdrafters and most are incredibly well-presented, with plenty of style and pizzaz (as well as riding skills) on display.

It's generally not hard picking the girls' horses from the mob...

And I saw others, like my friend Tracey, at her stall selling gorgeous hand-made jewellery.

I really love her stuff.

And I really, really love they way she presents it...

Weathered old tree roots against luminous faux-pearls...

It kinda illustrated the paradox to me far better than words...

the gnarled and the tough

the perfect foil for

the pretty and feminine.

Don't you think?

Help our hues!

I did a family photo shoot on the weekend (yes, in amongst all that campdrafting).

Luckily they are good friends of ours and didn't seem to mind in the least that we smelled like dust and horses and sweat. And they even failed to notice that my makeup had slid to below shirt level to be replaced by grime and that lovely shine that olive-skinned people get after a long hot day.

At least, they didn't point it out!

That's what friends are for...

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Amongst the images was this one I took during our late afternoon shoot.

Isn't it peaceful?

It was one of those 'in the moment' things...

We were getting ready to shoot the 'walking up the road towards the photographer' thing when one of the older kids called out to me.

'Quick, he said, take a shot of Dad and B'

(B is the littlest man of their four very cute children)

I lifted the Nikon and shot off one frame.

Just one.

I could analyse it to death, but instead I'll just say that (to me) this photo says:

Father and son.

Big and small.

Present and future.
Nuff said.

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Luckily, our friends love the shot too,

but there is one dilemma...

Black-and-white or colour?

Thoughts please, people...

we need some help!

Favourite things... flying hooves

I so loved reading your feedback from the last post... It was totally fascinating to read what everyone picked as their favourite image. It says volumes about what you connect with, what your own experience brings to the choice, even what colours you like!

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In fact I reckon it would be a psychologists dream to analyse this comments section...

Luckily for y'all I am no psycho-therapist...

(Some might argue I need one on occasion, but that's a whole other story!)

...

So, would you like to know which was my favourite image?

Each of the selection of action shots grabbed me (naturally, or they wouldn't be there) and I but it was

this one...

...that made my heart race when I first saw it.

And I wondered why?

Because if you know anything about me, it's that I fly by the seat of my jeans when it comes to thinking through my photography. I don't think, I just shoot.

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To back up a little, I should explain that I really wanted to capture images of 'flying hooves' last weekend. I had been asked to take some shots for the campdraft organising committee, and was given carte blanche (pardon my French) with ideas. The ideal job description! And so while I also took the regular action shots and close-ups of muzzles ...

and groovy belts and things,

I also made a conscious decision to try and get the hooves in action.

My initial idea was to get the hooves from behind to see the outline of the shoes.

I have to admit, it took about 80 shots, and some hits and plenty of misses...

Dear me!

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For those into cameras, I use a Nikon D100 with a 28-200 Nikkor zoom lense... a good little all-rounder. I am notorious for only ever using one lense, and I hate messing with lenses in dusty environments (nasty for the gizzards of one's camera!) but it was asking a lot of my little zoom to get in that close in as the horse and rider galloped from the camp out into the arena.

Some came out alright...

But there were all sorts of obstacles (fences, gates, people) in the way when the horse was at that exact angle. It started to frustrate me.

...
And then I just decided to throw caution to the wind and try and shoot through the fence as the horse 'cut out' in the camp yard, dashing and diving towards and away from me, just metres from the camera.

A challenge...

not the least of which was the demand on the auto-focus!!

And while some grabbed a sharp image, they just didn't capture the action...

As yet soon as I took this next shot, I knew.

I knew the way you know about a good melon ...

(name that movie).

I love that you can see the sinews in the foreleg,

the nails in the hoof ...

... and the cloud of grains of dirt and sand ballooning behind the lower hoof.

I love that you can see the spur but little more of the rider.

I love the mainly monotone of the shot, with the shot of sassy lavendar in the horse's bellboots. The crop below is pretty much the original frame.

If you wanted to, you could see some sort of 'thirds rule' thing happening there...

I shall be enlarging this one for my own wall.

And I may incorporate it somehow in the next BB banner.

Who knows?

Because really, I just look at it, and it gives me a little thrill.
You really can over-analyse these things, don't you agree?

Basically, it just rings mah bells.
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Oh, you know what other shot really caught my eye?

This one...

Sure the action and composition and blah de blah blah is nice,

but don't you recognise that rump?

And I ain't talkin' 'bout Trooper.
Heh.

Those bells are still ringing!

And Mr Incredible is officially blushing again.

I love it when he does that...

Draft details

Today, less is more.
Less words.
Instead, I shall let the photos do the talkin'.

But I want you to do one little thing for me, before I officially shut the heck up.
You have to tell me your favourite shot of this series.

And why.

Please.

I'll tell you why tomorrow.

...

I give you:

Campdrafting... sans explanation.
Enjoy!

Perhaps I should have titled this:

The Headless Horsemen...?

Dash-ed and dust-ed

We have spent the last two weekends at campdrafts.

Now I love campdrafting - or to be more specific, I love watching campdrafting.

But being out all weekend with two little kids in dusty, hot, hectic environments can be... well... wearing. And can play havoc with one's laundry situation. But through the endless action, busy horse-infested crowds and gritty tiredness (and lets not forget endless calls for 'ice-cream Mummy!') there are some moments that just make it all worthwhile.

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For instance...

this is Dash with his mate T.T is not large but he is quite an experienced little horseman. His Ma and Pa were busy running the campdraft (and doing a sterling job) and competing (and blasting around that course like the seasoned professionals that they are) and generally being superheroes, while T was warming up for the Mini Draft (for littlies). Just for the record he came second.

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Dash is not quite as experienced or confident as T.

But enthusiastic?

The boy takes gold in that department!

Here, Dash is about to show T he can canter Lacey around the practice arena.

T is on the pony almost out of shot at left.

Mr Incredible is blocking the gateway near the stalls - Lacy is a darling but has a bit of a bad habit of wanting to gallop back 'home'. I'm not sure who the other gent was in the gateway, but he was just as entranced by the action afoot as we were.

And Dash and Lacey are off...

cantering and kicking up dust like nobodies business.

Can you see the grin on our boy?
Never mind that little gap that keeps appearing between knees and leather...

Go Lacey! Go Dash!

Now I'm not sure if it's evident here, but that fence is getting a little close for Lacey's comfort.

Not that Dash is paying attention - he's just making sure T is getting the full impact of this horsemanship exhibition.

If the photographer had been truly committed to her art, the next frame should have shown Lacey braking sharply, and Dash hurtling through the air in somersault fashion, reins still firmly gripped.

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And then the following frame would have shown Mr Incredible sprinting up to see his if his only son was still breathing.

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And then the one after that, would have shown Dash standing up with a wide grin announcing that

"THAT WAS FUN, DAD!"

before clambering back on board again.
...

But I had decided instead to lower the camera and yell at my husband to see if we needed an ambulance. My Mother Instinct trumps my Photographer Instinct apparently.
...

But I have to say that, in editing this series of photos, this crop of the final shot - a millisecond before my son tasted dust - is my total favourite...

I think the word is GLEE...

Paradise at sunset...

A quick shot from my visit to Jeanie's this week...

This photo is completely unedited.

That's really how amazing the sunset colours are there.

We weren't in Paradise long and certain events overshadowed my lovely stay with my baby sister.

Sorry Jeanie!

But I know you understand my distraction...

...

Campdraft pics as soon as I can get to 'em.

Goodnight y'all.

BB

Dear Dana...

I write this letter in my head today, as I drive the three hours home from our shopping trip. It has been mostly a good day, busily filled with jobs and the chatter of my children as we hurtled from shop to shop, from the dentist to saddler, computer repairman to grocery store.

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I am tired. Tired from trying to sleep in a single bed with my daughter last night, from staying up too late waiting for her to go to sleep, from just being busy. But my exhaustion as I drive home is also caused by something else. A text message, actually. From your Mum.

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You see, I know your Mum. I worked with her once - only for a short time, but it was enough to realise that we are kindred spirits. I am proud to say she is my friend. A whip-smart, pretty, easy-smiling, energetic redhead. A successful, centred, happy woman. She always makes me think and makes me laugh. Life has taken us half of my state, and half of her state away from each other. Probably eight hours drive away. Too far. Too far right now especially.

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Your Mum sent me a text message today. I am rarely in mobile service range for an extended period, but had come to the Big Smoke to visit my sister for my birthday. I wanted to make the most of my rare access to the outside (mobile phone-using) world so I had sent your Mum a text last night, asking after your health. I guess I was expecting to hear how your chubby cheeks reminded her so of your big brother (a similar age to my Dash) and your big sister (not much younger than my daughter Violet). I got to see and stroke their sweet fat cheeks just hours after each of them was born. I missed that with you and I wanted to know it from her. But her return text did not tell me this news I was looking for.

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As I sat behind the wheel of my car, ready to go into the next shop for my next shopping job, the phone beeped. As my kids played happily in the back seat, I flipped it open to read her message. And the noise ebbed and my mouth went dry, and my heart damned near stopped:

Sorry (it read)

I thought you might have heard.

We are living a nightmare.

Beautiful Dana died of whooping cough last week.

Just trying to cope...

She should never have got it.

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There are rare and unexpected moments in your life, when you know your world has changed irrevocably. When you suddenly know that an extra cause has entered your life. Well that kind of moment happened to me today, about 9.30am, as I sat outside a sign shop. But my world hasn't changed nearly as much as for my dear, dear friend and her sweet husband. Your parents. I know they are both strong, resilient people. They won't understand just how strong yet. They certainly won't feel very strong at the moment. But they are.

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And you want to know something amazing - they are so incredibly selfless in the midst of their grief that they are already doing their best to help prevent any other little babies from being exposed to illnesses that should not be even present in our communities. Not in this day and age. Not when immunisation is available to us all. Already they are sharing their story. Of how you were too young to be immunised, but all your family were. Yet someone with whom you came into contact unknowingly carried a terrible preventable virus. And despite all that medical staff could throw at it, it took you. Your parents' love and strength will save other babies - and other families - some of the shocking grief they are swimming in, half drowning in, right now.

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The rain is sheeting across the windscreen, much as the tears slide down my cheeks. The windscreen wipers hurry to clear the view, yet my non-steering hand cannot keep up with the blur of the moisture on my face. I am so sorry, for myself, right not. For missing out on seeing a little girl I never knew. Will never know. Sorry that I cannot ever learn the curve of your darling cheek for myself Dana. It's a selfish thing, my grief.

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And I grieve for the loss of innocence in my friend, who will carry you beside this terrible hurt in her heart from this day on.

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Know Dana, that I will stand behind her in her efforts to make some sense of your loss. Always.

Regardless of how much distance separates us at the time.

And my hugs today reach out across half of my state and half of her state, as if she was sitting here beside me.

It doesn't feel like much.

It doesn't feel like enough.

With love always,

Bush Babe

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Toni & Dave now have a website in Dana's memory:

www.danamccaffery.com

Mystery at Scotty's Place...

The winner of my last Mystery Photo comp - Scotty the Frog Prince - has decided to 'pay it forward' by playing the game over at his place. He has posted up this strange image that he snapped on his mobile phone: With a challenge for the strangest/funniest/most-thought-provoking story out there to explain it. Head to Scotty's post to add your yarn. Winner gets an 8x12" Bush Babe print of their choice.

Good luck all!

:-)

BB

Come drive with me, let's drive... part 2

Apparently no-one got too carsick last post,

so here is the second instalment for those not adverse to dirt roads

and the weirdness offered by the Great Australian Bush!

Seatbelts done up?

Righto!

Take it away Mr I!

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The second part of our journey was on the way home

from our romantic (read: non-washing up-involving) lunch

at the local pub...

for the record I had a steak sandwich.

I always do.

(Keeping those ol' iron levels healthy there!)

So this is one of the views from the road about half an hour into the trip.

This is country I have never seen before...

despite the fact that it is within an hour of home.

I am a bit ashamed of this, I have to say.

I know certain cities better than I know my own back yard!

It is beautiful, no?

This shot shows some Brangus cattle grazing contentedly on a flat near a creek amongst the blue gums. It doesn't get a whole lot more restful, and Queensland country, than this...

I heart blue gums!

And then we stumbled across something really remarkable which cause me to call out:

STOP. RIGHT. NOW.

And with hardly a long-suffering sigh, Mr Incredible did halt the Prado.

I am going to show you the pics in reverse order...

see if you can work out what it is...

And here endeth the lesson:

When a woman weilding a Nikon calls out, you must stop the car to take photos.

Imagine missing that prickly pear in flower?

And here is the final shot of our trip.

Another dirt road.

Granite Glen was still 40 minutes drive away, but I was sated.

Was it good for you too?