last hours

29 September 2013

My last hours in the George Brown Eco House and I am feeling sad. It has been a rich and rewarding time for me, alone high above the world in my stilted house, watching and listening to the visitors and gardeners below, watching and listening to the bird life. The unfettered freedom to write. It has been extraordinary.

First thanks goes to the board members of the Northern Territory Writers Centre for the residency. A very big thanks to executive director Panos Couros and manager Kaye Hall, both made me feel very welcome and comfortable. Wishing them the success as they work towards to Word Storm 2014 and all other new and exciting writing ventures.

Thanks to the George Brown Darwin Botanic Garden management and staff, Bryan, Nigel, Caroline, Helen, Jeff, Sharon and Jeff’s mate who looked after the open house one afternoon when there was a washer failure and key problem.

Thanks to the security guys who made me feel safe.

Thanks to my workshop attendees Helen, Kaye, Sophie and Kaye

Thanks to everyone who made me feel at home and welcome especially Sandra Thibodeaux for the Mandorah pub expedition, Kaye Aldenhoven for the trip to Fogg Dam and Stokes Wharf and Sophie Cunningham for company at the Darwin Sailing Boat Club on Grand Final Day.

It was wonderful to meet other writers at ‘Off the Page’ and ‘Read Back’ I would like to invite any Northern Territory poets to contact Perth Poetry Club http://www.perthpoetryclub.com/  for a gig if ever in Perth. Perth Poetry Club is held every Saturday 2-4pm at the Moon Café on William Street Northbridge and everyone is welcome.

Here is a list of my blogs, please visit.

poetry http://coralcarter.blogspot.com.au/

rubbish photography http://rubbishphotographer.blogspot.com.au/

once you see a crucifix once http://onceyousee.blogspot.com.au/

sky-porn: a daily photograph of the skyhttp://sky-porn.blogspot.com.au/

Thanks Darwin for some wonderful skies.

feeling at home

23 September 2013

Into the last week of my residency and I am feeling at home. I feel as if the fruit bats are my nocturnal friends, I can hear that the bush chooks are just warning off their mates not someone crying for help, I know the splashing in the toilet bowl is the green frog, he is shy and scared and the spider the size of a side plate is just hunting insects and not me. That whatever was running around the skirting board was probably a mouse. The snake which glided like a stream of molten gold across my path is still outside I hope.

I sleep through the reticulations ons and offs. I am enjoying the sound of the rainbow lorikeets as they leave for work in the morning and return at dusk. Keep an ear out for the magpie geese, an out of tune horn section, as they leave the oval and head somewhere else for the night. I like to see the first kites in the sky at dawn and the last at sunset. I love sitting on my little back porch which is high above the gardens and eat my breakfast before anyone is around and the animal night shift is going to bed. I spy silently on the tourists with maps in hand navigating their way to the bromeliad collection.

 I listen impatiently to the doves that have a lot to say but only one word to say it with. I wait for the hose to be turned on by the bloke who wears a red hat, drives a white ute and waters his patch of community garden each day at wilt o’clock when everything wilts. At this time I find the sound of running water cooling as I have wilted a little too. I recognise the regulars to the gardens  and their dogs. I miss the voices of children if they don’t come with their dads and mums to pick their produce. I like the photographers with back packs of gear photographing everything, a bit like me. I know the click of the gate latch to the Chook Hilton and I know which hen announces she has laid an egg. I am OK that the security guard comes in the night and rattles the door making sure my house is safe. But I worry that he may hear me snoring. 

eat or be swallowed

21 September 2013

This morning was the third of four en plein air writing sessions, in the George Brown Darwin Botanic Gardens. We are meeting under the George Brown Eco House which is in the Snakebean Community Gardens near the Orientation Centre, Geranium Street entrance. We start at 7.30am walk to a writing space, tomorrow maybe the sensory garden or the rainforest, maybe there will be a choice. Write for half an hour then share writing with the group. Bring a light chair for real comfort. Afterwards there is a possibility of tea or coffee.

• ·         It is free.
• ·         Everyone welcome.
• ·         Ring or text me if you have any questions 0439 990 862.

Today we went into the rainforest and you are grabbed by growth, rot, eat or be swallowed. Everything is giant, over, super-sized. Layers of leaves drink the sunlight and if any thin fingers of light reach the forest floor they are quickly sucked up by a shadow into the green medley.

It rains in the rain forest, this is the season it rains leaves, blossoms, fruit, nuts, seeds sticks, and branches. I am in the forest and I hear them. 

growth rot, eat or be swallowed

the green medley

layers of leaves drink the sun

a poet captures the rainforest

en plein air

19 September 2013

 

This morning was the first of four en plein air writing sessions, Planting the Seed. The idea is to begin writing, a poem, prose to begin the process and see what grows. The sessions are held in the George Brown Darwin Botanic Gardens as part of my residency. We are meeting under the George Brown Eco House which is in the Snakebean Community Gardens near the Orientation Centre, Geranium Street entrance. We start at 7.30am, walk to a writing spot and write for half an hour then share our writing with the group. Afterwards there is a possibility of tea or coffee. An opportunity to share a writing experience. It is free. Everyone welcome.

This morning we began in the monkey bean trees.

en plein air

Before work and life and busyness of day five women write.

I listen

the man and lawn mower must be aware

I know there are places he must not go

asbestos fibres lie in wait

if disturbed will begin

their own mow down work

a jet comes here

goes there

goes somewhere

traffic roars like a flooded river

sprinklers sprink

making rain

birds call

too many to name

I know you don’t want a list

the shopping is enough

I listen

seasonal drought

unhooks leaves

a spider blinks

water pumps

from root to leaf

shade captures fallen light

My residence

The kitchen - last night I caught a glimpse of the resident mouse.

 Lounge with welcome vase of ginger flowers. My desk with NT News.

Bedroom -  where all night sounds are recorded by my hypersensitive hearing especially the bird which cries 'Halp! Halp! Haaaaaalp!!!' 

Bathroom. I am yet to get a pic of the tree frog in the toilet which gave me a 'You are in the Territory now' reminder on the first night.

Louvered view from my desk.

Community Gardens from the back stairs.

View in the other direction from the back stairs.

The green and the brown

12 September 2013 

To fulfil my promise to myself to re-establish my walking regime I set off early through the empty the community gardens to the lily pond to find a Nankeen Night Heron in mid hunting stare, having the wrong lens did not help with this picture.

Onwards out of the deep green of the gardens onto a road already heavy with traffic, past a stony patch of what was probably natural Darwin bush land suffering the end of the dry season.  I was thrilled to spot a group of bush stone curlews. I have only ever seen these birds in zoos before and here beside a busy road was an entire flock of them blending with the dry rocks and sticks standing as still and as straight as those dry sticks and dead. Across the road was a bright green lawn, splashes of luscious palms swaying in a small breeze and a leaf free concrete path. I could not help imagine the manicured green and clean concrete creeping towards the scrubby block the bird’s perfect camouflage lost. To me it seemed as if these thin brown birds with pleading eyes were huddling together in a last refuge. Although the greening of Darwin is a comforting and beautiful maybe some browning is a good idea too.

The rest of my day was spent working on a manuscript with Sandra Thibodeaux, http://sandrathibodeaux.wordpress.com/2013/09/08/the-casualties-of-the-season/  and lunching in Fanny Bay (poets have to eat ).

I attended the first session of Read Back http://ntwriters.com.au/home/ — a new critiquing group held in Frog Hollow at the NTWC with Kaye Hall. Great to hear from some Northern Territory writers Jahn read a short story,  Diggy  from his novel ‘Slow’, James from work in progress ’Longgrassing with a Laptop’ and Helen read from a novel in progress about the sex industry. Matt and Anne were happy to join in with the session listening and critiquing.

I know you want to know what happened in the night. First off, more gunfire, read fire crackers, you’ll get used to said the locals. A helicopter made several passes over the George Brown Eco House; I wondered if they could see an image of me green curled in my bed on the night vision heat seeking cameras. Heavy breathing in the undergrowth – a possum said the locals, in the morning confirmed by the community gardener who said someone had been eating her bananas.

It began with getting lost

11 September 2013

It began with getting lost on the way to Mindil Beach. For a start I headed in the wrong direction but with the aid of my Navigator app I found myself on the edge of the Arafura Sea. I love seas – love their flatness, ripples and tiny waves which plop. The tide was in. Oceans are another thing entirely all slap-bang and I will eat you waves. An inland born girl I prefer calm water. I didn’t stay long and my thirty minutes to get there walk turned into an eight minute return, past the old cemetery with Chinese headstones facing the sunrise and through the gardens to the George Brown Eco House.

Did some bird spotting on behalf of my bird mad friend, visit her blog, http://robbiesbackyard.blogspot.com.au/. Sent her a list of birds I saw without even trying: magpie geese, Torres Strait pigeons, double barred finches, peaceful doves, ibis, brahminy kites. Asked myself the question why didn’t I bring my bird book?

I received an invitation for dinner at Stokes Hill Wharf with poet, Kaye Aldenhover, http://www.presspress.com.au/Aldenhoven.html and her friend Bronwyn Mehan an ex Darwinite and owner of Spineless Wonders Press http://shortaustralianstories.com.au/.

Stokes Hill Wharf is a popular eating spot for the locals (human species), whiskered terns and silver gulls (airborne species), moonfish and barramundi (waterborne species). It is the best arrangement for these three species to share food, humans at tables at the edge of the wharf, birds patrolling the airspace, and fish below keeping an eye upward for any food which may fall, occasionally lifting a fin out of the water to make a splash.

Our happy party ate delicious Thai food and drank champagne as the sun set. This was my second sunset dinner and I am thinking I would try and make this a tradition while I am here. Members of our party were eating our choice of icecream and feeling pleasantly satisfied with our lot until an orange glow on the horizon was pointed out as The Detention Centre. It looked like its own mini setting sun and it sucked something out of the evening, stole something from the fun of eating in the outdoors watching the flight and glide of fish and birds. The choice of icecream became a little sour knowing that across the other side of the bay there was a group of people who had no choice. No choice in their own country for freedom. No choice but to flee. No choice but to risk all.

As we left I couldn’t help but think this shameful glow will be there tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

And how did I sleep? I know you want to know. It was fine apart from the 2am gunfire…gunfire!!! Fire crackers left over from Territory day in July the locals assure me — not a midnight gunfight.

Beach

I don’t go to the beach often.

It is not my place.
The salt in me is lake not sea.
The birds in me are black not white.
There is flame in me not wave.
The sound in me is still.

from Descended From Thieves

Coral Carter

Mulla Mulla Press 2012

www.mullamullapress.com

Melbourne Cup Day 2009

I went to a garden full of colour and light and water and bronzes of naked women kneeling and reclining and one holding both legs to her breasts exposing her cunt to fecundity all round. There were walkways of roses, wisteria, plum trees, orchards of citrus rotting, avocados hung like sinister black baubles, the garden shed with stained glass windows and chandelier, poppies filled to the brim with bees, pansies irises, violets, roses, nasturtiums, clematis, clouds of white camellias, stairs and seats and lily ponds, red rose avenues to fountains with a view as purple and orange push into the dried yellow dull green of the summer eucalyptus forest. Guests waved their free hand to explain the property extends to those trees over there. They bought that block too for privacy. And that is the dam. All the water is pumped from there to the lily ponds and look they are building a gallery for their collection. The workmen have the day off.
In this garden of prosperity and good fortune we drank champagne and exclaimed how blue is the sky and how perfect the day.

yes 

we are privileged

yes 

we are lucky

raise up your glasses

because out in the ocean

the cold deep ocean

the far away ocean

some of us flounder 

some of us founder

and some us of drown

from Descended From Thieves

Coral Carter

Mulla Mulla Press 2012

www.mullamullapress.com

At first I was afraid...

10 September 2013

‘At first I was afraid. I was petrified ‘

 I Will Survive by Freddy Perren and Dino Fekaris

What a night in the George Brown Eco House. It was a night with life - it lived, not like my woollen blanket desert nights that fit flat over you, fillyour ears with wool, muffling any sound or movement - desert animals have padded paws and low voices. The tropical night is filled with sound. It rushes in as if the setting sun has created a vacuum. Everyone is screaming. All living things suddenly find themselves in the dark and react as if they has never seen it before. Alarmed, they blunder about in the undergrowth fall from perches, crash into water, blind, crazed  and screaming. Murder is being committed out there in the dark. Trees fall apart branches, bark, husks, fruit, smash and clatter down , chaos in the night. And my eyes like automatic doors open and shut with every unknown rustle and crash .

I arrived on the morning flight from Perth after being placed like a parcel in the Standby Passengers Only area until I was given the golden ticket to board flight QF792 to Darwin. The plane was full of men all going to work, they were clean and neat, oil and gas men. It was hard not to compare them to the plane load I had travelled with from the goldfields, a grubby lot, some still in hi viz with dirt on their boots, gold dust under their fingernails. Differing kinds of mining men.

I sat next to bloke who ordered beer after breakfast. Ah yes I am on my way to the Territory - gateway to the outback, place where some pack their addictions and go to hide from wives, relations, themselves, the law. All I had to worry about was my luggage and if it would arrive in Darwin with me or would I join those with lost luggage stories and have to whip off to Target for a fresh set of undies while my bag flew around Australia but the system worked and there was my bag on the carousel and Kaye Hall from the Northern Territory Writers Centre http://ntwriters.com.au/new-nt-writers-centre-website/waiting to greet me.

George Brown Eco House is in the George Brown Darwin Botanic Gardens http://www.parksandwildlife.nt.gov.au/botanic The botanic garden staff were welcoming and presented me with keys, tea, coffee sugar and phone numbers. The house is a typical pre Tracey louvered  house, on stilts light, airy and welcoming surrounded by community gardens filled with a variety of vegetables and pawpaw trees. Beyond these gardens is the botanic gardens, a collection of tropical orchids, bromeliads, a rainforest walk, Tiwi wet forest and a collection of African baobab species. I can’t wait to visit every feature of the gardens which were destroyed by Tracey (everyone knows Tracey don’t they? http://www.naa.gov.au/collection/fact-sheets/fs176.aspx) and resurrected by George Brown the botanic gardens curator and Lord Mayor of Darwin 1992 – 2002

sea breeze cools

brahminy kites wheel

smudged blue sky

burn off season

an end or a beginning