Negotiating with doves.

Hi Calypso! I know you don't mind if we write here. Last night we camped out there, our beautiful land. We have no name for our land yet. A name will come. We were very scared. It's a very serious business, the first night, on the land we belong to.

Land is a marriage for us. It isn't property.
There are frogs! Yes, many. It is a swamp, after all.

Gray made our outdoor fire from a 1950's Simpson double-chambered washing machine. He had to angle-grind slots for the ash to fall through. He asked us to choose the spot. We would have very much liked to help dig, but we are so weak with this injury. It is very frustrating. It is sad that our incapacity seems to assist our relationship with Gray, but perhaps it is only sad because of a word trap. Perhaps I can recognise (and we, Hinchinbrook in general) something from this temporary incapacity, that might allow us to find a way to be strong and physically capable and still work in harmony with Gray. It hasn't yet happenned. We first reached despair about it, three years on, four years on - by the River, it was, I remember that moment - when I realised that we can't even carry a canoe together. Now we seem to have passed through despair to another place in our response to it. Given that we realise the truth that it is impossible to change another we still try to change our own behaviour to change the circumstances of this great sorrow in our life. Knowing also that a truth spoken is a truth halved, I try not to express this situation at length. I don't know how this entry happenned! I hope it will be kept.
To return to the evening just passed, then, Gray dug in the place we chose and set the washing machine drum in the sand, quite deep. The second chamber is where the kindling goes and later, the logs. There is a snug fitting lid. It worked brilliantly, even with wet wood, and we cooked our dinner on a barbeque plate - spring onions, tomato, mushroom, capsicum and (for those that do) free range chicken. Later we had pecan pie and tea together. Gray has been recording creature sounds for his job. I worked on a short story we are writing (with Castle) for the writing workshop coming up soon. I watched the same sky my Nana showed me as child. I know these stars as well as I do the night skies of Hinchinbrook, my other home, in two places. I watched the transit of Venus and took bearings (like the sailors do) from the Southern Cross. The stars were bright. On a piece of paper I wrote down words and secrets I wished to be rid of and put this in the fire. On another piece I wrote hopes and longings that I wish to be fulfilled and I also put this in the fire. I was happy with my progress on the story. "Negotiating with doves". We slept in the tent that we travelled around Australia in. Our mats and sleeping bags are amazing. Comfortable and warm. There was a weeping sound from far away in the middle of the darkness. Feminine. Lying still, together, in bed, we could hear the distant roar of that cold and tumultuous ocean. No gentle lapping to these shores.