Two Weeks and Counting and My First Fairy Wren

We ALMOST have a house. It's like the calm before the storm, people!

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
— H. Jackson Brown Jr. (P.S. I Love You)

"It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story."
— Patrick Rothfuss (The Name of the Wind (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #1))

"Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe
Rain may fall, and wind may blow
And many miles be still to go
But under a tall tree will I lie
And let the clouds go sailing by"
— J.R.R. Tolkien

Winter sun on the back pasture, Tinderbox, Tasmania

(Note the name change. Tasmania is so much more interesting than retirement musings! And a lot more fun to write. Welcome to The Art and Zen of Tasmania.)

We are winding down our time in our Tinderbox cottage and gearing up for moving into our new home. I have started waking up at 1 a.m. every night and then spending an hour or so lying next to the peacefully sleeping Herr Zen, my brain tallying each piece of furniture in our shipment and trying to match it with the perfect spot in our new house.

Totally fruitless exercise, since I’m not IN the house and I have no depth perception. Every time I tell Herr Zen one of my bright ideas, he rolls his eyes and says “Let’s just wait until we’re actually there.”

But I think my midnight musings are pretty good! I am coming up with some new concepts. For example, we have to buy a new sofa. The sofa will probably - PROBABLY, because I’m not in the house, people! - face the woodburner. The back of the sofa will be visible to one and all.

In addition to finding a sofa that is comfortable, made of a fabric or leather that isn’t similar to a scratching post so the cats ignore it, and height and leg room compromises for my tall husband and short me - it will have to have a pretty back. There aren’t many of those.

The only one I like so far is the chesterfield currently in the house, but pretty sure the owners are taking it when they move. And I haven’t seen a chesterfield in any of the stores yet. SO while burning the midnight oil one night I came up with a brilliant solution. BRILLIANT, I tell you, if I do say so myself.

Bookshelves. I can buy a three seater and a two seater, and have bookshelves made to go behind them so when you’re behind the sofa you will see books and maybe a vase of flowers on top or a little lamp. Better than a weirdly shaped, boring back.

Bonus#1, our cats won’t be able to scratch through the wood to get to the back of the sofa, their favorite part. Bonus #2, I’ll have a place for my stash of books - still huge even after the moving cull. We had a TON of built-ins at our old house and I filled them all.

I think it’s a great idea. Herr Zen? He sighed and tilted his head in a tired way. I think I am wearing him out with all my mental preparations. He’s more a ‘Live in the Moment’ kind of guy. Like a Golden Retriever. Hmmph.

But, really - it’s inspired. Don’t you think?

I gave Herr Zen a break yesterday and took a solo walk up the steep hill by the Tinderbox Vineyards. Right before I walked out the door, I grabbed my phone and looked for a good podcast to download. DRAT AND HELL! During the last big download yesterday, Spotify figured out I wasn’t in the United States. They’ve blocked my playlist, then suavely suggested - or is that extorted - that I sign up for International Spotify for a monthly fee.

Nope. I’m a free app girl. I don’t mind listening to commercials, I can hit that little 15 second advance button until my fingers bleed. I’m good. There’s gotta be a workaround.

I deleted the app, then used my second email account to sign up for Spotify again, this time Spotify Australia. Success! And it has MOST of my podcasts. A few are missing, but I can locate them online and download those to a download file. I’m getting craftier. (As if that were possible, right?)

My podcast for the walk was a good one - Cracking Open with Molly Carroll, the episode called “Transforming Fear Into Peace with Thomas Jones and The Paradox Process.” One can hope that I will sleep better tonight after applying what I learn on my walk.

As I started off, a little rabbit scurried under the blackberry bushes and up into the vineyard. Eh, cute, but a rabbit is a rabbit. I didn’t see any real difference between a Tasmanian one and the little guys I saw in the Georgia fields.

ANYWAY, on to the birds. Walking slowly up a hill gave me time to really look around. I saw a pair of Green Rosella parrots, old friends from our time in Allen’s Rivulet, where they nibbled on the quince tree below my second floor window. Today, this spousal unit swooped and followed me up the hill, lighting on wire fencing or sitting in the dirt watching my laborious progress before flitting with annoying speed to the top of my climb.

Not my photo, but a typical Green Rosella parrot

Next, this little guy. These birds are EVERYWHERE, but definitely love the beach here in Tinderbox. He’s called a Masked Lapwing, also known as Spur-winged Plover. I was actually able to get a photo of this one - he was sitting in my front yard as I started my walk. They’re cutely sinister with that yellow mask and beady eyes.

But - best of all!! - I saw my first fairy wren in the wild. I think this one was a Superb Fairy Wren. (No, that’s the actual name, although he WAS superbly handsome!)

He flew right down next to me, perched on a bare tree branch, stared for a moment then bolted with a flicker of bright blue. I was so surprised and enamored I couldn’t pull my phone out in time to take a picture. Here’s a fairy wren. This one’s a male, the female’s feathers aren’t quite as bold.

Typical Superb Fairy Wren, Male

I checked the Bruny Island website and found this bit of interesting information. “The Superb Fairy-wren lives primarily on a diet of insects but also supplements this with seeds. It is a very active bird, often in motion. During mating season, the male will court the female by presenting yellow petals. Superb fairy-wrens will mate with multiple partners, resulting in the tag of "least faithful bird in the world". . . Female birds have been observed being courted by 13 males in a half-hour period.”

Oh, to be a female fairy wren. I mean, if courting means some flirting, wining and dining, she has a pretty good life! Male to female ratio looks GOOD for the girls.

If courting is a euphemism for SEX thirteen times in a half-hour period. . . Ewww. Poor little thing. Another question for my Wildlife Sanctuary tour tomorrow!

*******

It’s tomorrow, but our planned trip to the sanctuary did not materialize. I woke up AGAIN at 1:00 am, this time because of a thrilling windstorm with lots of rain, gnashing of branches against the windows and howling sounds down the chimney. I sat on the couch for two hours watching through the picture window and lazily scrolling furniture websites. (He-eyyy, our couch here in Tinderbox has a big bench behind it for magazines, covering most of the back fabric. Great minds think alike!)

I slept in a bit this morning, then decided to run down to Huonville, return my reading club book and check the mail. It’s a BEAUTIFUL day after the rainstorm. I saw multiple rainbows as I tootled around the curves and even some snow on the mountaintops.

Drat. Spotify has also deleted all of my downloaded music compilations. I pulled over at a stop sign and quickly found a new one - Fifty Best-Loved Hymns. I can sing and pray for my safety at the same time. (I am MUCH better at driving, but podcasts are still a bit too distracting when I’m trying to remember which direction I turn on the roundabouts. Harder than you’d think when there aren’t any other cars to give you a hint.)

Wow, talk about a restful drive I lucked out and got the version from the Choir of Trinity College, Melbourne, Australia. I tried to join in, but, embarrassingly, I’ve forgotten a lot of the verses. Except for the singalong ones from Herr Zen’s rugby games. I knocked those out of the park!

Guide me, O thou great Redeemer, Pilgrim through this barren land;

I am weak, but thou art mighty; Hold me with thy powerful hand:

Bread of Heaven, Bread of Heaven, FEED ME now and evermore!

FEED Me no - ow a-and EVER..MORE!

I have to say, even the Choir of Trinity College is no match for a full throated Welsh rugby crowd.

My mother’s 88th birthday would have been July 10, so she’s been on my mind a lot this week. And as I drove with the beautiful music, I could feel her in the car with me. She had a very nice singing voice and shared it in the church choir for years. I think she would have been equal parts amused and entertained today. And maybe a bit chagrined that I’ve forgotten so many hymns that we sang together, holding the hymnal between us.

I pulled into the library parking lot with a smile on my face, which promptly departed when I tried - and failed - to back into a parking space on my first attempt. I managed to put my car in the middle of two spaces, completely straddling the line.

My driving has vastly improved, my reverse parking - not so much. I put the car into drive to pull out a bit and have a second go. And then two or three cars pulled in behind me - it’s a one way lane through this parking lot- so I drove out to the main street to let them by and avoid prolonging my stupidity in front of witnesses.

Unfortunately, the man sitting in the driver’s seat of a parked van saw my ‘walk of shame’ as it were, when I sheepishly drove through the entrance again thirty seconds after my departure. But, hey, he also saw me successfully get it right on my third try!

After dropping off my books, buying some milk for breakfast at the store, and two big bags of apples at the orchard on the edge of Franklin, I headed home. For the first time, I felt comfortable enough to drive the speed limit through and over the hills when I crossed into 100 kilometers per hour territory. Normally, I timidly hug the side of the road at 80 or so, the polite Tasmanian drivers patiently waiting for the passing lane sections.

I think it was the music. After the hymns, I tried the radio station buttons. Normally, it’s a weird mix of bubble gum pop tunes, but today I got to sing along with Luke Combs and “Fast Car.” (Funny how I can remember every word to a Tracy Chapman tune while brain dumping the hymns. Hmmm.)

ANYWAY. Time is passing slowly, as you can probably tell. On the up side, I am feeling more and more comfortable in my new Tasmanian skin. I even made lamb stew last night for dinner. I’m practically a native!

And now, for your reward, a peaceful moment from my walk. Forty seven seconds of cud-chewing, cortisol blocking calm. Hit replay as needed.

Huh. Maybe I should watch this on a loop at one in the morning.