Cat's Flix

Fire Life

2010-11-09T15:23:00.004+10:00

The fire had roared through the land, devouring everything. Tela had watched from the hilltop, watched the flames soar, the homestead succumb. Her homestead. her heart wanting deperately to go down to save something, anything, but her head had saved her from that.

Now, as the blackened land crunched under her footsteps, the stink of smoke and death invading her senses, Tela wondered whether she regretted listening to her head. until a speck of colour caught her eye.

After Storm

2010-10-26T23:16:00.003+10:00

There is something about after a storm. the air is cleaner, the colours brighter. Birds call after their silence, or were their calls drowned out by the storm's noise? The world is renewed.

And I think in there is a story waiting to be born.

2010-10-08T12:58:00.004+10:00

Just a grasshopper

2010-10-07T11:09:00.007+10:00

Nothing spoils a good nap than being landed on by a grasshopper, but my puppy did her best to try to catch the blighter after being woken.

Didn't succeed, but I managed to get a rough photo or two.

Fire

2009-09-22T09:45:00.002+10:00

Vaeldan stopped. The roar bothered him. It was not inside his head but like the constant, unrelenting buzz of insects. He looked up, past the mix of dried and green blades of grass. The sky should have been blue, the sun should have shone, but a haze of grey hung like a shroud. Sometimes more brown than grey, it filled the sky. Vaeldan turned, saw the shape of the haze wasn't smooth, but rose in tufts that snaked and spread out. He started towards it; drawn by curiosity, by the need that had always driven him to search for answers. The haze thickened, filled his mouth with sweetness as much as bitterness. And the roar became distinct crackles and deep mutterings. As if it was trying to tell him something, warning him of something.

'Harvesters shall rid us of vermin. Fire shall be their tool.'

Fire. The grasses were on fires. And as if to confirm, red and golden flames licked the smoke as Vaeldan watched.

"Harvesters. Fire."

"Harvesters!" He swivelled and started to run, hands flailing at the grass stems. "Fire!" Vaeldan ignored the cuts, ignored that his feet felt like stone. "Fire!" He ran.

Weeping

2009-03-17T22:31:00.004+10:00

She leant forward, too afraid to touch the green mass, too afraid to not to. something urged her on, a voice, not to her ears, not in her head, but in her soul. A voice that made her soul ache and sob.

It wasn't slimy as she feared, but soft, wet, warm. And her soul ached even more.

It was as if her soul cried, as if she was gazing at the very rocks weeping.

Who wins?

2009-03-16T22:23:00.000+10:00

In the fight of soft shell against hard rock, usually the rock wins. The reason we have sandy beaches.

But in this case, the shell discovered a small flaw in the rock, a soft spot and took full advantage.

The shell win.

Dinner

2009-03-15T21:58:00.000+10:00

Spur of the moment photograph by my husband.

Hanging

2009-03-14T22:19:00.000+10:00

Only his nostrils and his eyes breached the surface. He hung midwater; relaxed, aware, ready.

Street Art

2009-03-13T22:12:00.000+10:00

Street Art; words or paintings or both adorning otherwise blank walls, enhancing the building, brightening the dull cityscape, highlighting the beauty that is already there; is something worthwhile and a valid artform

Grafitti; random scribbles or beautiful paintings, thrown on to buildings and equipment, ignoring the existing, in defiance of authority, showing no respect or considertion; is a crime, against society, and the community.

Can one ever be the other?

Escape?

2009-03-12T22:00:00.000+10:00

The cloud of bubbles floated past me, escaping the confines of the water, reaching for the surface and thier own environment. I should have followed, should have kicked and risen with them. Returned to air and salvation.

But I didn't.

The sight below held me.

Twitter

2009-03-11T22:44:00.000+10:00

The chatter and twrittering caught my attention before the sight of him did. Then I couldn't take my eyes off him, or rather the camera lens. He seemd to know the lens was there to captue him. Only capture his image, but he acted like the camera would trap him for ever. When I had the camera to my face he was never still, always finding something to hide behind. And never making a noise.

Yet I let the cemera down, my arms aching, my face tired of being squished to the back of it, and he would come closer, stand still for more than a millisecond and twitte and chatter his protests.

Until I moved the camera to my face. and the whole silent, hidden; protesting, visible cycle would begin again.

Sun Reflection

2009-03-10T02:05:00.000+10:00

Reclaimed

2009-03-09T02:15:00.001+10:00

The sea bought with it mud and creatures, reclaimed Man's futile attempts to place life along its shores. Abandonded the structure of stone and iron borke unti; all that remained were the image of the walls and the occassional spike of rusted, shell encrusted iron.

MudSkipper

2009-03-08T02:11:00.001+10:00

Finch

2009-03-07T16:49:00.002+10:00

I spent ages in the dying light of the day, attempting to capture this finch in his evening preening., without using a flash.

Blood?

2009-03-06T17:06:00.000+10:00

I'd been tracking the man, knowing I'd wounded him, an ever-growing feeling that something about him wasn't right sitting in the pit of my stomach. No man I knew ran after taking a blade though the shoulder. I'd excused it to adrenalin, or that I was mistaken as to the depth of the cut. Something, anything, to push back that uneasy feeling that this man wasn't normal. Wasn't human.

But now, as I squatted; staring, not daring to touch; I couldn't hid the fact any longer.

The black sludge; still warm, still dripping from the leaves; was definately his version of blood. And the heat, if I could judge it using human standard's; indicated he, it was close.

Light play

2009-03-05T16:44:00.000+10:00

Crab Delight

2009-03-04T21:27:00.002+10:00

I was alone on the beach, alone with my thoughts and the sound of the waves.

At first alone had been a delight, an experience, something I desired and revelled in. But now alone was alone and my desires travelled elsewhere.

I hadn't noticed them in previous wanderings. Maybe the tide was just right, the sun setting at just the correct angle. Maybe I had been to cuaght up in my own mind. Maybe I was just so desperate for another being. But I noticed them this night.

Crabs. Scurrying, busy, dilligent crabs. Crabs that took home in the tiny shells that littered the beach amongst the stones and sands. Crabs that fed on miniscule morsels. crabs that congregated, a dozen of them, on a fallen flower. Crabs so small I could have held and army in the palm of my hand.

I was no longer alone.

Top End Colours

2009-03-03T22:32:00.002+10:00

The photo just doesn't do justice to the true colours.

Underwater

2009-03-02T18:58:00.000+10:00

It Rains

2009-03-02T00:57:00.002+10:00

In the wet, it rains.

Not just a slight drizzle, not just a few drops. but heavy ponderous drops that crash on the ground. Large drops that soak everything the second they hit.

There is no point in trying to stay dry, it is impossible. You stay indoors or carry on.

But the wetness is welcome, a relief from the heat and humdity. A chance to wash the grime that sticks to you, albeit briefly.

In the wet, it rains.

Last night

2009-03-01T16:55:00.008+10:00

The damp sand scrunched between her toes, then slipped away as she lifted her foot, like the time they had together. It had slipped away.

At the start of this visit, time had seemed unending, forever. She had wondered if they could fill it.

Now she wondered what they had filled it with.

One last walk along the beach, one last look at the setting sun.

Would it set on them? Would time slip away? Would only memories remain, like the grains that clung to her ankles?

Wet

2008-11-13T23:02:00.000+10:00

Python

2008-11-12T23:00:00.000+10:00

Fish Scales - Not

2008-11-11T22:59:00.000+10:00

Beauty

2008-11-10T22:58:00.000+10:00

Beauty on 8 legs

2008-11-09T22:56:00.001+10:00

Shell

2008-11-08T22:55:00.000+10:00

FootPrints

2008-11-07T22:54:00.000+10:00

Abstract Art

2008-11-06T22:49:00.000+10:00

Sunlit Underground

2008-11-05T23:13:00.000+10:00

Supped

2008-11-04T23:11:00.000+10:00

Sunset Silhouette

2008-11-03T23:09:00.001+10:00

SunCloud

2008-11-02T23:09:00.000+10:00

Spotted

2008-11-01T23:08:00.000+10:00

Opposite

2008-10-31T23:07:00.000+10:00

GoKart

2008-10-30T23:06:00.000+10:00

valley

2008-10-29T23:05:00.000+10:00

Forever

2008-10-28T23:04:00.000+10:00

Web Sunset

2008-10-27T23:02:00.001+10:00

Sunlight

2008-10-26T23:01:00.000+10:00

Rusted

2008-10-25T22:59:00.000+10:00

Rain

2008-10-24T22:57:00.000+10:00

Praying Interrupted

2008-10-23T22:55:00.000+10:00

Safe Port

2008-10-22T22:54:00.000+10:00

Fullness

2008-10-21T22:35:00.000+10:00

Spring Growth

2008-10-20T22:24:00.001+10:00

Red

2008-10-19T22:23:00.000+10:00

rainDrops

2008-10-18T22:21:00.000+10:00

Ocean

2008-10-17T22:20:00.000+10:00

Contorted

2008-10-16T22:08:00.000+10:00

Derelict

2008-10-15T22:07:00.000+10:00

Carpet

2008-10-14T22:06:00.000+10:00

RustedLock

2008-10-13T22:01:00.000+10:00

LeftHanded

2008-10-12T22:02:00.000+10:00

Beach

2008-10-11T21:57:00.000+10:00

Distant

2008-10-10T21:56:00.000+10:00

Pathetic

2008-10-09T21:54:00.000+10:00

DewDrops

2008-10-08T21:54:00.000+10:00

Crabwritings

2008-10-07T21:52:00.000+10:00

Bay

2008-10-06T21:52:00.000+10:00

Chain

2008-10-05T21:51:00.000+10:00

Delicate

2008-10-04T21:48:00.000+10:00

Well travelled

2008-10-03T21:46:00.000+10:00

Bath

2008-10-02T21:42:00.000+10:00

Warning

2008-10-01T01:35:00.000+10:00

Warning; if it's pretty it's poisonous.

Love the country I live in.

Sun Reflection

2008-09-30T01:28:00.002+10:00

James sat on the edge of the bridge; very unbusiness like, with his jacket on the railing, his tie loosened, his briefcase tumbled in the grass somewhere.

Watching the sunset hightlight the building bought too much pleasure to bother with convention.

His building. His design. His vision.

Watching The World

2008-09-29T01:20:00.001+10:00

From up here puppy can see the world.

Not my best pose

2008-09-29T01:18:00.000+10:00

But then as long as I'm close to my people, I don't care.

Colours

2008-09-28T01:17:00.000+10:00

Why write words to this.

I can't compete.

Bridge

2008-09-27T01:09:00.000+10:00

Rat's eye view

2008-09-26T00:56:00.000+10:00

His first connection with Dooke sent Joshuah crashing to the ground. Standing in the middle of the barren training ground but seeing the grass and clover from underneath shut down his brain and his legs.

The other novice mages laughed, pointed, called him names. But as he stood again, slowly coping with two visions, he recognised the difference in the faces of the others between a real connection and a pretence.

Only one other novice wore the look of connection. They smiled at each other and bore the brunt of the abuse.

later that night Joshuah found himself taken by the black mages to another part of the monastery. His only other companion was Dooke, the other novice and his rat.

End of Day

2008-09-25T00:45:00.002+10:00

Joshuah loved the end of the day, when the heat of the day seeped away, when the noises of the day started to lessen, when the demands on his attentions gave way to prayer and meditation.

What he did miss was being able to watch the twin suns set, with his oen eyesight.

I'm Bigger Now

2008-09-24T00:40:00.001+10:00

Remember the old photo of Puppy sleeping in the box.

This her now.

Subtle beauty

2008-09-23T00:32:00.000+10:00

Dance

2008-09-22T00:29:00.000+10:00

My puppy dances. Not to music but to cheese.

Storm

2008-09-21T18:23:00.003+10:00

The flash blinded her, sent whiteness into her brain, blinding her thoughts and fears. In that blankness the crackle and rumble rolled, tumbled; filled her. It churned within her mind, trembled in her chest as she lay on the damp grass. Lasting, filling, emptying everything but the storm.

And she smiled.

Sleepy Puppy

2008-09-20T18:19:00.002+10:00

I'm cheating today. I hunted out the old little digital for a reason today and found there were some photos on it. This is Puppy taken Dec 2007. Puppy was 4 1/2 months old.

She would not fit in this box now.

silence

2008-09-19T21:51:00.004+10:00

Loved Hat

2008-09-17T21:51:00.000+10:00

Gramps had given it to him. This old felt hat. It wasn't anything special to Gramps, just a hat he kept in the boot of his car, just in case.

But to Mikey it became special.

It smelt of Gramps; of sea breezes and oily cars.

When the black ribbon came loose, Mikey wasn't worried. But he cried the day the hat blew off his head and the ribbon took to the skies. He wouldn't let his mother replace it though. No ribbon was good enough.

When the rim tore after the dog stole it, Mikey wouldn't talk to his beloved pet for a whole week. The dog never took the hat again. Mikey found the stapler and made the repairs himself.

He kept wearing it.

His father asked him what will he do when it finally becomes unwearable. Mikey considered this. He will just ask Gramps to make him another one. And if Gramps can't do it. He;ll ask God.

Reflections

2008-09-16T21:51:00.001+10:00

Memory Ochid

2008-09-15T21:51:00.004+10:00

I have this orchid.

Years ago Mum and Dad moved into a house. An orchid was attached to one of the trees. Orchid stems are pretty ugly, all of thier beauty is in the delicate flowers. Mum and Dad lived in that house for seven years. During that time this orchid never flowered. Every time Dad got into the garden he threatened to strip this thing from the trunk and chuck it.

One year, it flowered. Dad pointed it out to Mum (I was visiting that day) and apologised for his prior threats for it was truely a beautiful flower. Mum accepted his apology gracefully and carried on doing the housework. Only when Dad left on some errand, did Mum's composure disintergrate.

Laughing so much she was crying Mum took me to look at the flower. It was fake. A cloth replica that Mum had bought. We laughed together.

It took five days before Dad noticed that the flower was fake. He laughed then too.

Such was Mum's sense of humor, such was my parent's relationship.

When Mum and Dad moved house again Mum took this orchid with her. It never flowered at her new house either.

Until.

Mum died 3 years after being diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. She was 10 days off her 70th birthday. Definately too young, too active, too alive to be struck down by the disease. Her death was a devastating relief.

Less than two weeks later the orchid flowered.

Funnily enough its flowers are the replica of the silk one Mum had bought all those years ago.

When Dad sold his house he allowed me to take any plant out of the garden. I took quite a few. But none so memory ridden as this orchid.

It has flowered every year since Mum's death.

Unnoticed

2008-09-14T20:48:00.003+10:00

The native plants around here are brightly coloured, enticing to the equally bright birds. amonst the grey-green to bottle green foliage, against the briliant blue skies, the red, crimson, golden, orange, and pink flowers capture your eye.

But if you ever look down, if you ever watch where you step, amidst the dry leaves underfoot, the snapping twigs, the slithers of flat grasses, you might just notice some flowers just a beautiful. Just not as gaudy.

Enclosed

2008-09-13T20:24:00.002+10:00

She squatted amongst the discards twigs and the crackle dry leaves, staring at the fallen tree. It had been healthy last time she passed this way; bent, crooked but healthy. And that was what, one moon ago? The growth that half wrapped around the now dead trunk had to be the cause. She remembered looking at it back then; a thin green growth sucked to the tree, barely a hand's width and no higher that she could reach. She remembered touching it, feeling the warmth, the haste within. She had meant to ask about it at the sharman's gathering, but events had a way of driving unimportant questions away.

It didn't seem unimportant now.

She remembered Tilka, his hurried limp as he struggled to run with the men, as he fought his fate to be a hunter. Remembered the agony of his fall, of feeling the broken bones. Of hoping he would walk again, knowing that if he did that leg would never be normal. She remembered that he was no longer regarded a man, no longer a child. Tilka was an unseen.

She stared at the growth that enclosed the trunk of the tree, that had grown straight and tall, forcing the tree to straighten. The sun fell behind the mountain, the moon rose and still she started.

Spider cluster

2008-09-12T21:33:00.003+10:00

Her hands were damp, she wiped them on her jeans. She chewed her bottom lip, sucking alomst all of it into her mouth. thought the day was warm, she felt the cool breeze reach her skin. She shivered.

She tried to call out, but her voice died. Her breath moved the leaves. The tiny spiders scattered; tiny, tiny feet gripped the webs and ran, each to it's own strand. So small, so tiny, so evil.

She fainted. crumpled to the stoned pathway.

The spiders froze. The one dropped, spun a faint line and dropped to the ground. It hit the stones and ran to the body, dragging it's line behind it. Then another dropped, and third.

Soon all two hundred of them were climbing the body, strong silk glued to her skin.

The cluster above them felt the movement, heard the excitement. One spider dropped to investigate. Then another.

Meal Time

2008-09-11T22:01:00.003+10:00

The rosellas enjoy my gravilleas. Every morning they squawk and squeal amongst the branches.

My Kitty remains on the ground, totally frustrated at thier teasting.

AttackCat / Sook Cat

2008-09-10T21:22:00.003+10:00

This is my Kitty. Unpredictable at best.

Her attack was due to sitting under my trees watching birds just out of reach.

Her sooking is asking forgiveness.

Morning Dew

2008-09-09T21:47:00.003+10:00

The morning dew on a Callistemon (bottle brush) flower. Actualy flowers.

Bad Girl

2008-09-08T21:43:00.002+10:00

'What?'

'I'm not allowed up here?'

'Since when?'

Neglect

2008-09-07T20:49:00.004+10:00

I was told by my grandmother that citrus thrived on neglect. This one certainly has.

Swan

2008-09-06T20:47:00.001+10:00

' As graceful as a swan' just doesn't cover it. Not in real life.

Sunset

2008-09-05T21:46:00.003+10:00

Jesse walked every evening and every evening stopped to watch the sunset over the lake.

As the sun set she let the hassels of the day follow.

If only real life was that easy.

Spider

2008-09-04T21:38:00.003+10:00

It rained over the past two days.

This spider obviously lost its web. I came across it soon after it had finished the new one. the web was almost perfect.

Sleepy

2008-09-03T21:31:00.003+10:00

My puppy is a purebreed staffy, retained by her breeder as she was the only female in the litter, sold at four months old as she was considered not big boned enough. She spent those four months in a cage, in the garage of the breeder's house. In cages next to her were her father, uncle and female cousin. Every morning they would have time out in the yard to play, every afternoon they had some training and play time.

She now lives with us. A pet. A spoiled pet, who lives in the house, sleeps on our beds, has free access to our back yard (secure of course). She has two teenage boys to play with. She goes to training, which is more like playtime and meet other dogs and people than training.

I don't think she is too upset.

Pollen

2008-09-02T21:21:00.003+10:00

He'd taken to the river, sure that it would aid in his escape. No scent to follow, no tracks.

He hadn't know about the pollen that coated the water's surface. Deep still waters, he only just kept his chin above the suface, dusted with the fallen flowers of the unnamed trees that lined the river banks. Every breath filled his lungs with the sweet pollen, every breath choked his throat, filled his nostrils. Sneezes threatened.

What was worse was the trail he left behind, the empty waters, the absence of flowers that he left in his wake.

He could only hope the trees would release more before the hunters came upon his trail.

Tiles

2008-09-01T21:20:00.002+10:00

Cheating. Since my Hubby had the camera at work and I couldn't take my own photos, I've stolen a couple of his.

Stranger

2008-08-31T21:18:00.002+10:00

She thought she was alone in the office. She was supposed to be alone.

Outside

2008-08-30T21:04:00.003+10:00

When he was huddled in the darkness, unable to see the creatures that made the sounds around him, unable to breath the putrid stench of a cell unwashed, he'd survived, remained sane by imagining being able to see the outside world.

When they had moved him, shackled and blind folded, prodded into a stumbling gait, He'd silently thanked the gods.

From his cell he could see outside, feel the cold fresh air, raise his face to the wind. From his cell he enjoyed the rain as it splashed on the steel and concrete, washed himself as a stream flowed over the low wall, tumbling to his feet. From his cell he could hear the freedom of the brids as they sang as day broke.

In his cell there was no lull as the wind tore through, wrapping itself around his body, ignoring the rags he wore. In his cell the stream became a river, a torrent that threatened to take him beyond the wires, if it could, dicing him into pieces. In his cell the birds mocked him, waking him in the cold darkness, leaving him to shiver, awake and despairing before dawn appear and bought new torments to him. Allowing him to see freedom, to taste freedom, to smell and feel it. But never reach freedom.

He longed for the darkness of his old home.

Left Behind

2008-08-29T21:00:00.002+10:00

It is a dream of mine and my hubby's, to travel the country side, even the towns, and discover buildings like this one.

Buildings left behind as the people moved on.

What happened? Why was the land abandoned? For financial reason, no money left to keep the land useful? Or because the land was worth more redeveloped?

We would take the photos, talk to the people and write about the places Left Behind.