Another weekend gone, another Monday arrived, and I've finally got time to sit down and have a look at some photo's I took on a recent outing with the Jane Barndon pit crew. They've really put me in mind of a comment a lovely gent - and skilled artist in his own right - made to me at the #LoveBushColours exhibition opening late last year.
"Why did you use those colours when the land is really quite drab?"
Don't you love the questions that make you think? I do. And I've been looking around me, and wondering. Not wondering why I used those colours, bold, clean, unmistakable. I've been wondering why I notice them in the landscape. Maybe I'm seeing the colours, and not the flies or the heat.
How could the beaten gold of ripe grasses, or the purple shadows on the hills, or the colours in those magnificent skies, be dull?
Even up close, an individual plant in a sea of vegetation isn't boring. And from a distance, the blue on the horizon is incredible. Patches of light and shadow creating a tapestry of colour, an ambience that is unmissable.
Plants that look like they should have come from another planet. Not the standard brown or green, but lime and pink, purple, flowers that beggar belief and make you question your perception of "pretty".
From a line up of "pretty" images that begun with #LoveBushColours, I'm looking closer. Looking deeper. It's not about making pretty pictures. It's about finding place, finding self, finding perspective. And maybe, this week, it's about letting go the things that really don't matter.
The little niggles, the thoughtlessness of others, the outcomes beyond my control.
The horizon's always there. Constant. What better anchor?