Feeling the light

From the redemption of Sweet Honey and Ben Harper to the Buffalo Soldier of Xavier Rudd, Bob Marley is all over this festival. Even on the t-shirt of Ruthie Foster's drummer.

Last night I felt the love from Allen Stone's brilliant rendition of Single Bed. This white kid is black all over. Part preacher calling his people to god, he is a shining tuneful soul on stage backed by a tight band and mixing the covers with his own upbeat tunes. Hallelujah!

Take an old song and make it better

Great music here!

I'm told Steve Kilbey was on Rockwiz Fri but I missed it. Best was Ruthie Foster's soulful rendition of Ring of Fire. Shuggie Otis was fantastic, and Taj Mahal.

And then on Sat Sweet Honey in the Rock did Redemption song.

It is early in the morning and I woke up too soon. Bring me a slow ballad for an hour or two.

Bluesfest 2013

Highlight last night - Rodriguez playing Dylan's Like a rolling stone, backed by members of Midnight Oil, Violent Femmes and Hunters and Collectors. Ben Harpers slide guitar was masterful. Today Shuggie Otis and Santana and more Ben!

How brightly they shine

This city is about to reach a major birthday, 100 years as the capital of Australia.  A political centre that has grown over time, drawing people to it from across the country and the globe, Canberra continues to build as a centre of creativity and thought.  Though many Australians would deny it, this city has a lot that captures the imagination.

Recently tagged the second most liveable city in Australia, and let down only by its extremes of weather, tonight it is pleasantly warm, and a great evening to explore Enlighten, now an annual festival that makes the most of the city's public buildings.   Colour, light, and movement - and everyone is out with their cameras and tripods, families and friends.  As enchanting as the pictures on the buildings, couples and families poise like statues, young and old, waiting for the pictures to change, and celebrating together the beauty of this event.  Enlighten is part of the Canberra Centenary festival, and will continue through to 9 March.

I'm sorry Shane Howard

I'm sorry Shane Howard, I googled you on my phone while watching your show as the opener for Carole King.
I'm sorry Shane Howard, I didn't remember you were the singer of the Goanna Band's hit song from the 80s about Ayers Rock.
I'm sorry Shane Howard, I didn't realise your website was going to launch into playing that song.
I'm sorry Shane Howard, I should know my phone better,
I tried squeezing my phone, and swiping it to get the browser menu up, but nothing worked.
I'm so so sorry...
- it was me playing Solid Rock from the audience while you were introducing it, and me who couldn't turn it off.
I'm sorry Shane Howard, but I did enjoy much of your show, especially the song you opened with - I'd rather be here.  It was wonderful.

Special mention should be made of Carole King's fantastic show that followed.  It is, in fact, her birthday today (thanks google).  So Happy Birthday Carole, and thank you for writing the sound track to our lives, for continuing to sing it so beautifully and for being such a glowing and energetic performer.  What an inspiration!

Song to the city

Just went for another evening walk.  I am not far from Parliament House and tonight I heard the sounds of the Australia Day concert as I strolled.  Australia Day is celebrated tomorrow - the anniversary of the first European settlement.  As one brave candidate for Australian of the Year said - maybe it's time to debate the date and find a better day that acknowledges the centuries of Aboriginal settlement that came before.

There is not much to say about the music drifting from the concert - mainstream Australian artists, some who've been around forever (Jimmy Barnes) and a few Australian idol winners or runners up (Guy Sebastian, Timomatic).   It's nice to be close to a celebration though.

We are expecting other local celebrations this year.  I was just reminded from the Parliament House website that the building is 25 years old.  That is ancient for Canberra.  We are still a young city.  Our centenary falls this year, but we've really only grown from a country town in the late 50s and early 60s.

Today the population of Canberra is about 350,000 working in the public service and service industries.  It is still a place where there are usually three degrees of separation, not the often quoted six - most people you meet know someone who knows someone you know.  It's a livable city though - good restaurants, lots of theatre, music and genuine people.

There is a confusing richness of events planned for Canberra's centenary - many will take place during Canberra Week in mid March.  One of the objectives is to increase national pride in Canberra.  As the capital city, and therefore the political centre, it can be the subject of some disdain from other Australians.  It seems we have set out to improve the way Australians view their capital by having the world's longest champagne bar - surely a quaint way indeed to show our worth.  Also learnt today of some kind of build them up knock them down event in the city - building a city out of cardboard boxes - I bought tickets to that!  It all reminds me of our Y2K celebrations - water skiing on our lake, and planes in formation overhead.

Canberra was designed by Walter and Marion Griffin, a husband and wife team from America.  The central components are built around the natural geography - triangles that fall between the local hills, with a man-made lake in the centre.  I was once told by a friend of the mystical powers of a location down by the lake (from where we watched the water skiing), and that the Griffins intended that this (and Canberra) would become a centre of creativity.  Perhaps, like all creativity, it takes time to mature.  Maybe 100 years, and a long line of champagne will see that happening sooner rather than later.

Before the March party we get a day off for Australia Day - Monday is a public holiday though the actual day is tomorrow.   Apparently it is traditional to have a barbecue on Australia Day - something I've never (ever) done.  I've been invited to a barbecue tomorrow though, so that will be something new.

Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are.  I will be sleeping in.

The hammock swing

It is still hot.  I drink water.  I sit in air conditioned restaurants with friends who don't want to be outside in the heat.  I love the heat though.

So sometime after I get home, after 9pm, I head off.  I walk.  One foot in front of the other, across the bridge down the bike path, under the trees.  I walk along the path I usually run, cutting through the warm air.  Moving forward.  One step.  Then the next.

At first I am walking just to walk.  Then I remember a destination, a place I have run past many times, and though it always catches my interest, the rhythm of my runs stop me from stopping.  Walking there is taking longer than running, but I have more time to observe. I walk down the path and pass houses with their lights on, their occupants inside, resting and avoiding the heat.  One house has fairy lights stretched through its garden, passable as backyard decoration, rather than Christmas.  Surely it is too late for that.  These are lazy summer days, hot and begging us to rest.

The path stretches on.  My feet keep moving, and my mind quietens.  I cross roads.  I think about the dark, and feel safe, though I am alone, a little melancholy and wishing I had some company.   Then I arrive at the park, and find it free.  I jump on the swing hammock and it rocks underneath me.  I could fall asleep as I rock, and I wonder if I could stay here on this swing in the Canberra suburbs all night.

Above me the silhouette of the canopy spreads across the sky, behind that clouds and breaking through them a crescent moon, and stars.  I close my eyes and rock, then open them to enjoy the trees. I am in no hurry to move, happy just lying here.

Then suddenly I hear voices.  The end of this rest, I think, and jump up quickly.  Without hesitation I begin walking again, heading back home, this time along the road.  My peace disturbed I feel a little less safe, but quickly regather.  My own shadow towers over me as I walk home, and I know that any other would appear quickly too.  The occasional car drives past and adds to my comfort.  And there are no people about.

It is hot.  But I love the heat.  One day, maybe, I will live in a place that is hot like this most of the year, somewhere where most of the people step out of their houses on nights like this, and there is no reason to fear a voice in the night.  And where some of those people might walk with me.

Counting

A short post to honour summer.  Hot, hot days and sometimes restless nights.  Swimming laps, lazing, reading and hanging with friends.

Been back at work for a few weeks though, so over the daytime hours it's hard to be completely restful.  There is plenty to do, I enjoy my job and it may keep me going for several years.

Part of me is counting though.  Knowing that I will reach a point in a year or so when it will be viable to stop working for a while, or longer.  I have a long list of things I'd like to do then.  Writing, traveling, perhaps working overseas.  Exploring other cultures.  And learning - music and Indonesian - whether formally or just to have more time to teach myself.  So I am counting days and months till I might take an extended break.

Ironically, counting is the thing I need to focus on with music.  My playing has stretched into time signatures other than 4/4 and 3/4 and understanding the differences can be a challenge.  I seem to be able to identify the notes quite readily now, and do understand that some notes are a half or a quarter as long as others.  There are unwanted pauses at the end of bars though, and sometimes my playing just doesn't reflect the tune.

The good news is I'm able to adjust, and it seems that rhythm is something I'm much better at by ear, by listening to how a tune should be played.  I think this is because I've listened to lots of music over my life.

I know the solution is to count out the rhythm then play it, and I try to use a metronome, but that seems another layer of concentration when I'd much rather be able to disappear into the tunes.  Guess that's the aim though, to let the tune take over, and the counting is just the way to get there.

Searching for Singer Songwriters

In fact - it hasn't so much been a search but a flood of live performances and movies.  Over the last month I have been immersed in the work of one singer songwriter after another, have learnt lots about their lives, and how their music reflects their times.  Oh, and I have also been learning to swim.

I'm actually a bit surprised myself when I list out all the shows I've seen (and also by the swimming but that comes later).  Here is what I've been up to:

• First, Steve Kilbey in a bookshop, as written about earlier.  After this gig I discovered that Steve has a fabulous blog where he features extraordinary existential poetry, moment after moment in his life, colorfully described, and just waiting to be harvested into song.
• Then Mal Webb, at The Artists Shed, playing at a relatively new venue in nearby Queanbeyan.  The Artists Shed is an eclectic place - in an industrial part of town it combines gallery, small theatre and performance space with the feel of a party in a 60s group house.  Not yet fully discovered, but certainly another venue to add to the growing number of boutique spots emerging in Canberra.
• This was followed by a fabulous theatrical show featuring Michelangelo and the Tin Star at the Polish Club.
• Then I saw a show about Woody Guthrie to celebrate the 100 years since his birth, again at The Artists Shed - performed by Shortis and Simpson, a local theatrical duo.
• Soon after I saw a new movie out about Paul Kelly - Stories of me.
• And then another movie Charles Bradley:  Soul of America.
• And this week, Homemade Jam, a local singer songwriter competition, featuring some great talent, all ages - old and young.
• And lastly another movie - this time about 70s star Rodriguez - Searching for Sugarman - an amazing story of a great American musician who didn't know he'd made it big in South Africa (and Australia).

So what makes a great singer songwriter.  Is it a compulsion?  Is it the incredible ability to observe and recast what is happening to the people around you? Is it a life lived hard with love and passion? From the shows I've seen I've learnt that:

• if you are a singer songwriter, and you are short of material, the bible provides an endless source (Steve Kilbey, Paul Kelly), 
• or else try the back catalogue of other great performers (Woody Guthrie, Paul Kelly).
• don't hesitate to use cliches - they resonate with people.
• it is never too late to gain recognition (Charles Bradley, Rodriguez).
• and recognition can come when you least expect it and in unexpected ways (Charles Bradley, Rodriguez)
• you don't need a big audience to have fun (Mal Webb),
• if you have a back catalogue, the audience will want to hear the songs they know which means playing them again, and again and again.  You can get away though with just playing part of the song and the chorus(Steve Kilbey, Mal Webb, Shortis/Simpson interpreting Guthrie).
• you may become an influence to others (Woody Guthrie, oh and probably all of the others)
• you are unlikely to get rich writing songs, but your songs will be a rich reflection of your times.
• everybody has to start somewhere (Singer/Songwriter competition)
• a good singer songwriter has a memorable voice and a feel for music and a soul that shines.  It is always fleeting, but a magical thing when the world connects with them.  And outside these moments, most are humble and surprised at the attention.

I enjoy music, seeing it live, learning about how others have lived musical lives, and listening to the tunes that hold their souls.  Music is both an intimate and a collective thing, and a way to remember we were here.  It is the beat within us all.

As for my own musical journey, I continue to play guitar daily.  I have joined the local guitar society and am rehearsing with the ensemble every fortnight.  There will be a performance in December and hopefully I will be ready.  If I am ready it will have a lot to do with the young school of music student who has been teaching me for the last few months.  She has been great at helping me interpret the sheet music, become better at rhythm and learn to play notes all over the neck.

It is too early to be writing songs, though one day I will (I hope).

And as for the swimming - I am training for novice triathlons and as part of that am learning more about freestyle.  I have always loved water and can swim breast stroke forever but have always struggled with breathing when it comes to freestyle.  It seems the first thing to do is to treat swimming as an art, and to concentrate on floating forward gracefully.  From that with some focus on the arms and the body the swimming comes - and I'm pleased to say doing this has had an effect.  I am swimming laps comfortably.  What a revelation!

Poems float and this one will too, to change in time

Land locked
Looking for oceans
Slowly opening to sunshine
Skin stretched across asanas
Bending, breathing
What a simple joy
To be a voice that is heard by standing still
On earth
In time
Just

The Church and other Canberra Institutions

Last night I went to a gig at a Canberra institution - Smith's Alternative Bookshop - the weirdest, funniest, most entertaining gig I've been to in some time, and terrific value for $25.

Steve Kilbey from the Church also has some claim to being a Canberra institution - having spent his teenage years in Canberra and starting his musical career here.  So it was no surprise really that the show was all hits and memories.  Steve brought with him his memories of high school, buying his first guitar, and the influences of Marc Bolan (T-Rex) and David Bowie.  He'd arrived as an English boy of 10.  Like a European migrant remembers his home country as it was at the time he left, Kilbey's memories of Canberra were fixed in time, in this case the 70s and 80s.  A time when most school leavers drifted into the public service and then measured themselves by the level they rose to (in Steve's case a /2/3).  By all accounts (well all of Steve's anyway) he was a bit of a wild boy then.  And at 58 a wild boy he remains.

This visit to Canberra coincided with some very public ramblings from Steve in which he threatens to leave his band, the one he formed thirty odd years ago.  The trigger, we were told, was the arrival of a cheque for $100.  Most of the band's earnings having been taken over the years as the music industry's cut.  Who can tell why a long standing issue had suddenly boiled over, but three hours of venting on the drive from Sydney to Canberra had led to a sunburnt arm, a raspy voice, and a distracted performance.  We heard a few of the hits (Under the Milky Way, Unguarded Moment) though the musical experience was more impressionist than true to the songs.  Some songs were barely started before Steve interjected with anecdotes - mostly very funny stories about Canberra.  Some songs were started but then stopped when Steve was unhappy with his playing or singing. And just as he was excusing himself and his lost voice, there were some songs he played so intensely he lost himself inside them.

We heard that he is not modest, that he has produced thirty odd albums.  He confessed to not being a good singer or musician. He spoke of AFL football, and politics and debating.  We learnt that he had debated with the ACT team, and that they had been thoroughly beaten by Malcolm Turnbull and the boys from NSW.  We learnt that his family had billeted Malcolm and that his mother thought he would be Prime Minister one day, and that she is still waiting for this.  Steve declared his interest in being the Governor General, or a comedian.

Through all of his stories of growing up and coming of age, I felt I had been taken back to small town Canberra of the seventies.  That you would catch a bus across town to buy a record, and then savour the writings on the record sleeve on the bus ride home. For Steve it was a trip to Manuka to buy a T-Rex album.  I remember  catching the bus to Civic to collect an album I'd won in a radio competition - Deep Purple. Something of the smoke wafting into the bookshop,  reminded me of the Canberra Day Rock concerts that were held in Civic and at the Showgrounds in the mid seventies, and of cider and great live music at Floyds at Woden.  I wonder if Steve watched those gigs, or played there?

There was talk of the possible future gigs in Canberra, probably part of the upcoming centenary.  I hope Steve is able to sort out his issues with the record company, and to stay with The Church so they can play these performances.  It would be great to see him again and to hear the music with the band.  In the meantime I have the CD I bought at the end of show - Garage Sutra - produced only a few years ago.  It has been the perfect gentle backdrop to a rainy day in Canberra today.  You can hear the influences of the seventies British psychedelic rockers on it, and get a feel for Steve's poetic sensibility and fascination with ancient worlds past.  At Smith's bookshop last night his show was perfect - poetry that held many of the moments that have moved us to this time.



  

Some questions about chords

There are many ideas and ideologies that run in circles.  Apparently opposite ideas can seem very closely related.  In politics the further right you go, the more left the ideas and the further left the more right.  In image, computer geek with long unwashed hair, black t-shirt and ragged jeans is not all that far from rock star.

So what about music?  Are all the available notes arranged only in a linear form?  Is is still a chord if the notes played are from distant octaves?  Is it still harmony if the high note sitting in its office way up on the end of the keyboard is matched with a note that hangs out with its popular mates in the middle?

Picasso deconstructed violins and guitars, and they became boxes of painted steel, stacked upon each other, hard edged and inorganic.  A bit like a jazz tune put together from chords disentangled and resassembled, each somehow dischordant but belonging.

We all live busy lives.  We work, and raise children and pay off mortgages, and in the busyness our voices become silent, our instruments lay still. 

What is most important is not whether there is an audience.  The note is still beautiful when it is played, whether or not it is heard.   The important thing is that the note is sounded.  And if there are other notes that sound with it, there will be chords. And some of these will be beautiful too.

Sydney 7 and 8 Jan.  Picasso, amazing, vibrant.  Bought Uke book for Sulawesi trek – daydreams, raindrops, and kings.  Friends, coffee, food.  Walking.  Aboriginal festival – black jazz.  Billabong puppets.

Journeys with the minstrels

It's hard to believe how long it is since I've blogged.  Much has happened, Christmas with family and friends, more settling into the new house, bush walks, a cycle trip in SA, and more.  There are photos and stories and I will try to write about them when I can.

I have been on a journey these last few weeks though.  One that needs to be written down, so that its not forgotten.  It started with a night out with my father to see Andreas Scholl, the counter tenor.  Before the show started I was talking with Dad about how much he likes music.  He said that there'd been a piano in his home as a child in Scotland, and that he had been going to have lessons, but the depression made that difficult.  Then he said that a famous Scottish fiddler (Scott Skinner) had written a tune called 'The left handed fiddle player' for his great uncle George Taylor, who also played the fiddle.  As a leftie who has grown up among a world of rights, my response was instinctive - you mean you had a left handed relative in the family and you never told me???

Musically I have been playing around with the ukelele, working my way through a finger picking book that wanders through hawaiian folk tunes and classics such as Dona Nobis Pacem.  A quick google turned up this:  http://www.thesession.org/tunes/display/4661.  (written for my great great uncle I might add!)  So I worked it out on the ukelele and began practising it to try to get it smooth and fast.  I continue to work on this.  It might take a while.

Then a friend asked if I wanted to go and see Tony McManus at the local folk club.  We have seen him before, a couple of times, at the National Folk Festival.  I have one of his albums that I have listened too many times, beautiful Scottish folk tunes played on the guitar.  It was a fabulous concert and lovely to hear the deeply resonant sounds of the guitar.  There were pipe tunes played with beautiful skipping melodies against a droning back sound.  Tony mentioned Scott Skinner and played one of his tunes, and I beamed with pride, wanting to stop him and tell him about my great great uncle.  I came away with another CD, and particular enthusiasm to play my guitar (which is probably vintage by now since I bought it when I was 19).  After so much ukelele playing I discovered the guitar was huge, and had a lot of notes on the fret board, but it has stayed out since that concert and I found some folk tunes on a handout from the folk festival that I am trying to work out and practice.

The act before Tony played a classic Scottish tune, covered by many a folk band - Caledonia by Dougie MacLean.  I remembered that I had been wanting to buy one of Dougie's CDs for quite some time.  So I got onto the web, (after looking up Tony's site) and bought two albums, downloaded them, and started listening.  The first few times I couldn't stop myself from crying everytime I heard the tunes. Caledonia is a song about homesickness for Scotland which somehow makes me feel for the country I lived in for two years when I was ' just a wee bairn' as they say - before and when I started school.  There is also a fabulous song about learning to use a scythe on the farm (you've got to hold it right its not something you can learn in a day) which turns out to also be a tune about learning to play the fiddle or the guitar, or the ukelele.  And did I say Tony McManus was left handed (as noted when he signed my CD) but plays his guitar right handed. Like me! I wonder about Dougie?

I have bought more song books, and stands for my two precious instruments, and have set myself to do some long term practice.  These journey's with the minstrels have put some roads in front of me, and I'm eager to walk my way down them.

And then in Bali it was about the people

So then in early Oct I went on a long planned, week long trip to Ubud in Bali.  Some friends had been there for the better part of a year, volunteering in an organisation dedicated to preserving traditional textile crafts across the eastern Indonesian islands.   I was to be their 26th guest, and their last.  As well, I had put my name down as a volunteer at the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival .  I was looking forward to returning to Indonesia having spent a month cycling on the island of Sulawesi in early 2009.  And I wasn't disappointed.

Soon after arriving I discovered I had been invited to a royal wedding - by virtue of the fact I was staying at a hotel owned by the royal family.  I invited my friends to join me, and had a lovely day and night.  There was Balinese dancing and gamelan playing and wayang kulit.  The palace, a collage of outdoor rooms and balconies, was decorated with fruit and flowers, and garudas and statues and offerings.  The prince had Australia in his face, having spent much of his childhood in Sydney with his family.  His new wife was an actress from Jakarta who had converted from Islam to Hindu the day before the wedding.  There were lots of family and friends and staff and others from the community present, and it was a great privilege to be introduced to Bali in that way.

The year of the lotus continued

After spring arrived, and as I continued to unpack boxes and slowly settle into the new home, my year of the lotus continued.

In late September I volunteered at a Japanese candle festival.  There were a number of us trying to combat the wind in the late afternoon to light a sea of candles.  It was frustrating and not very sucessful.  Then as dusk arrived the wind dropped, and the candles were lit easily.  And the plastic cups filled with tea light candles became a magical river of light.  Families gathered around the candles and gazed in, relaxed.  It was a lovely evening.

A taxi hailed in the suburbs

Friday lunchtime.  Dropped my car home as the windscreen was being replaced - due to a chip and a crack from a few days before.  Wandered down to the bus stop, hoping a bus would come by.  Waited five or ten minutes and then began to get a bit anxious about getting back to work as I didn't want to take too long a lunch break.

As I walked up the street to try another bus stop, I saw a taxi and signalled to the driver.  He waivered for a minute, then stopped for me, and said 'I'm going to Woden, you can come if you are going to Woden'.  My reply - ''that's great, that's where I'm going'.

The driver explained that he had just been to the mosque - it being a  Friday. He was wearing his clothes for prayer, and was meeting his wife in Woden to change and to start his shift.  He said, I find, when I pray that god puts thing in your way.   I was pleased to get back to work in good time.

The arrival of the spring goddess

Today the sun shone as I rode around our lake, dodging people and dogs and strollers and pedal bikes.  People were out in their numbers.  Spring is not far away.

And so I emerge from my hybernation from this blog.  A lot has happened.

Soon after I last blogged I bid for and bought a house.  Then followed some early packing, so that the painters could get into the old house, and a week away to let them do their thing.  The painters were followed in by gardeners, carpet layers, and decorators.

In late June my old house went on the market and soon after was sold.  Across those weeks more packing, and in early July a truck to move me to the new house.  Sales on the old and new went through.  A new mortgage was established.

And here I am now, reasonably settled into the new house (and loving its location), but still slowly unpacking the secondary layer of boxes.  For quite a while I was able to find most of what I needed but I have begun to reach the 'where ares my screwdrivers?  my grandfather's fish photos?  my blue socks?' phase.

I haven't moved for more than 15 years and have little call to travel across town as one of the reasons I moved was to be closer to work.  I did go back last week to visit my doctor though - because it is nearly impossible here in Canberra to get in as a new patient in any other doctors surgery.  It was a little weird, both as a reminder that I have in fact moved (this isn't just a short stay away from home) and that I don't really miss the old place.

I am still learning about the new place though, and the new suburb.  Today, after a slow start and a bike ride, I unpacked the final boxes in the kitchen, and repacked a few boxes to take to the opp shop.  Then I found the sunny spot in the garden, made myself a cup of tea, and read a few pages of my book.  I am glad I made the move.

And to continue the Asian theme that steeps unpredictably through this blog, soon after I put the deposit down on the house in early May, I went on a short holiday to Hong Kong.  We packed a lot into four days, including bike riding in the New Territories, the festival of Tin Hau (Goddess of the Sea),

a day trip to Macau,

a Tears for Fears concert, a little shopping, and a ride on a junk.

This is one of my favourite photos - the main hall in a walled village - with photos ancestors and revered elders, and additional decoration for the festival of the Sea Goddess.

Space and rhythm

I am on holidays.  Three weeks, and several adventures planned, with enough space left for the unplanned too.

This break started with a weekend trip to Wollongong (to see son), then a day and night in Sydney (for a Taiko drumming workshop).

The drumming was great fun.  In two hours we learned the basis of a rhythm that is played continuously at Japanese festivals over several hours, sometimes days.  Arms are held straight, sometimes high above the head before beating into the drum.  Very theatrical.  Once the rhythm starts its important to keep the space between your arms and your body, which is helped by the way you stand.  Always the need for space to support form.

After two days back in Canberra, I headed off again - this time to country Victoria for a five day cycling trip.  There were over fourty people from Canberra there, it being organised through the local cycling club. We stayed in country pubs, and had lovely breakfasts and dinners thrown in.  Overall we did about 270km from Myrtleford to Bright and back, to Beechworth (up a steep hill), then on to Rutherglen for two nights.  The only rain was on our rest day in Rutherglen, when we cycled short distances between wineries, after a ride across the river (and the border) for morning tea in Corowa, NSW.

On the way back I stopped in at Albury and had lunch with my son's grandmother and aunt.  To celebrate the grandmother's 80th birthday I had bought a bonsai plant.  While on the ride I had left in the care of the very kind staff at the Myrtleford visitors centre.

It was a lovely adventure buying the bonsai.  I found a guy who sells them in my suburb, and visited his nursery.  He showed me the big plants ($6000 or more) and they were beautiful.  With the deciduous trees losing their leaves, and pomegranates bearing bright but miniature fruit - it was a delightful place.  And luckily there was a nice cyprus for sale at a very reasonable price.

I was reminded of the bonsai garden when we arrived in Bright, which is on the road to the Victorian ski fields, and which had just celebrated its Autumn festival - the main feature being the beautiful trees turning to shades of red and gold and silver, with their leaves floating onto the ground below them.

The people on the ride were lovely, some friends I know quite well, and others who quickly became new friends.  And on the last day of the ride, after we had all showered and changed out of our cycling gear, a rainbow appeared in the sky.

Lotus flowers and lanterns

Well it seems like just yesterday, but it is nearly a month since I last posted.

And it has been a time of more lotuses, new year lanterns and drumming. In late Feb, on a cycling weekend in Wollongong, we visited the Nan Tien budhist temple.  They were celebrating the Chinese New Year, with lanterns and color, Chinese dragons and drumming.

Echoing my trip to the botanic gardens in January, the pond at the temple was also filled with lotus flowers.

This weekend I was at the National Folk Festival, which is held every Easter here in Canberra.  A lively music and camping scene emerges magically on the local show grounds.  As I usually do, I volunteered in the instrument lockup, which is a good way to see another side to the festival.

And when I wasn't helping out there I was free to enjoy the different shows.  Sometimes new acts are found by studying the program, but often they are discovered moving about the venue, while looking for something to eat, or waiting to meet up with a friend.  Most of the time time my feet are tapping.

Once again I saw lots of good acts, fiddle and bass and singing along with plenty of silliness.  Another feature of the festival is the many workshops - dance and singing and playing.  After seeing Taikoz play at the opening concert I did their drumming workshop yesterday, then stumbled across their evening concert as well.  When I looked up their website last night I just loved their motto - 'to beat with every muscle, bone and sinew in our bodies, with an open and joyous spirit'.

It is the joy in each of the performances at the folk festival that keeps me going back year after year, and which inspires me to keep practicing some music at home.  Slowly, learning to read the notes from the page, and then practicing again and again until the tunes come alive.  There is much to uplift the soul in striving for perfection and synergy and then settling into each moment before it passes - perfect or less so.

And once the show ground has resurfaced, and I find myself in my office humming fiddle tunes, for a few days at least I feel just a little more grounded, and connected to the rhythms that run through time.