In the evenings the constellations of the Southern Cross swim about like star fish in a deep pool. A lunar eclipse is due to coincide with the full moon on Tuesday night. The windows of village homes glow with candles on sills and lacy webs of silver baubles.
There’s nothing but the Blackness there
Graceful as the grace to see
I send my eye beams sailing out
They bring back Grace to me
Difficult moments with drunken and abusive posters on sobriety forums. Let me not count the ways in which the unsober can wreck Christmas for others… A woefully ignorant country doctor has prescribed generous helpings of Valium for a newly sober woman friend and she is now glazed and impervious to everything. Not good.
Along the quieter roads here there are glimpses of waterlilies on farm dams, white and green gloriousness. There are drifts of deep red canna lilies and blue agapanthus, pale green watermelons piled high at the roadside stalls, The landscape dances in the noon heat.
Each day I hold my breath amidst the threat of chaos and remind myself that this is a hard season; then I breathe out and carry on. The house is filled with flowers and ceramic bowls of peaches, greeting cards and looped tinselly red and green ribbons. Sugared ginger biscuits in jars, dishes of pecan and macademia nuts, wrapped toffees in glass bowls for visiting children. Lasagna, mince pies, homemade ice cream in the freezer.
Sooner or later the light breaks through.