AGES & STAGES

by Mocco Wollert

I am so lucky to have a substantial garden where I live. I am surrounded on three sides by lush grass, lilly pillies and all kinds of shrubs and flowers.

I love flowers but am no longer able to look after them, unless they are in a vase on my table. I gave up pulling out weeds when a friend fell over while trying to pull up a stubborn plant. She landed on the hard concrete in front of her house and broke her hip.

Luckily, we have village gardeners who do all the heavy work.

My retirement village is called Keperra Sanctuary and in a way it is a sanctuary, not just for us elderly folk but for all sorts of wildlife.

Being one the early villages, they left plenty of grassy areas and room for gardens. As it was built on an old quarry site, we still have a small “lake” which attracts lot of wildlife.

Recently, I bought a bird bath and the wildlife around me, in my trees and shrubs, is slowly starting to use it. The butcher birds, honey eaters and minas turn up on a regular basis.

They come at daylight, and I love waking to the loud voices of my bird friends.

The magpies have had my number for a long time. One will sit on the outdoor chair right in front of my office window, his sharp little black eyes challenging me to fetch from the pantry that special dry biscuit I keep for him. I would like to put out proper bird feed but the Bush Turkey would eat it all. I know I am not supposed to feed the wildlife, so please don’t tell anyone.

I have accepted that a Bush Turkey family walks through my garden, unperturbed, even if I sit with a friend outside on the patio. It started with a male, I presume; I have no idea how to identify male or female. However, the way he struts makes him a male in my eyes. I call him Louis and don’t chase him or his family anymore. So far, the family has respected my garden and not built a big nest in the middle of it. I have small holes beside plants but my neighbour tells me that they are made by bandicoots.

Behind my fence is a small strip of wilderness, the home of a sizable goanna. I only see him occasionally in summer when he ‘strolls’ along my fence. I also saw a kangaroo hopping past and disappearing into the little wilderness behind the fence. My friends won’t believe me though and tell me I probably had a glass too many.

There is a family of ducks who appears from time to time with little goslings on the grassy area, I call Village Green. A spot, not only good for ducks and magpies but also for a group of neighbours and myself to sit in the late afternoon, when the heat is gone, and share a drink and companionship.

May birdsong wake you and animals surround you.

by Cheryl Lockwood

There’s more than one way to get a boost. Some pop vitamins or guzzle energy drinks. Maybe a relaxing spa or a decent night’s sleep is more your thing. The booster on most peoples’ minds right now is more likely a third or even fourth vaccination against COVID.

I recently rolled up my sleeve for the jab. Now, I’m not about to get on my soapbox on the topic. There’s a chance I’d fall off. The subject has been the cause of debate, to say the least. Pro-vax or anti-vax, the decision hasn’t been easy for everyone.

Several of my acquaintances have their reasons for saying no. There’s also a group who don’t want to be told what to do. “It’s a free country,” they cry…except when all the borders are closed. I’d like to be healthy in this free country, better still, actually alive.

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“I don’t know what’s in it.”

Granted, my own research consisted of seeing a sign for a temporary vaccination clinic that did “walk-ins” and heading in. I once had an operation and was prescribed painkillers. I don’t know what was in them either, but they worked a treat.

Strangely, many people don’t appear to be as concerned with overindulging in alcohol or foods with ingredients we can’t pronounce, let alone recognise. Not enough research? Too scared? I’m scared too, scared that our already overrun health system won’t cope. Scared that if I do contract the virus, I could pass it to someone more vulnerable.

Fortunately, I’m not afraid of needles. Though I do have a vague memory of being dragged, kicking and screaming, into the doctor’s surgery for an immunisation. I was very young and I daresay Mum was very embarrassed.

No such drama with my COVID booster. The only downside was waiting, although I didn’t really mind a chance to do nothing.

The ‘clinic’ was set up in a sport centre. The last time I’d set foot in the place was for volleyball many years ago. If they’d left the court clear, we could have had a match to pass the time.

Thumbs up to the staff who were professional and friendly. From the traffic controllers to the check-in staff to the nurses administering vaccines, all went about their tasks with positivity. Given the crowd, I’m sure my nurse had heard the same questions countless times, but she was still smiling through her transparent face-shield. I should have asked if those shields are more comfortable than the disposable masks which have become our standard accessory.

She explained possible side effects, but I’d already decided not to have any. This strategy worked for the first 2 shots. Afterwards, I waited for 15 minutes in the observation area, just in case. I didn’t observe a lot, just chairs, some occupied by other people sporting puncture wounds under little round Band-Aids. It didn’t boost my ego or my jogging speed, but it boosted my heart to think I’d helped us edge toward a world that will fight and conquer COVID.