In December of 2015, in the fourth month of the birding and travel that became my book The Year, I was collecting a prescription filled at the Torquay Pharmacy. The pharmacy also sells furniture, clothing and any number of things utterly unrelated to pharmaceuticals. It is not unlike an Australian Post Office where you can buy almost anything… “Hey, no need to go to the hardware store, I’ll pick up a chainsaw down at the Post Office.” Well, almost.
Anyway, I noticed a plain grey hat that I kind of liked and I tried it on. It looked okay and it had a chinstrap. Those are handy for me since hats blow off my head easily… pointed head maybe? As I was fixing to purchase it the nice pharmacy lady mentioned that it was on sale. How much? Five dollars! So I bought two and tucked one away.
I love that hat. I have worn it all the way around the continent of Australia. I just checked my list and I have seen 157 Life Birds whilst wearing that hat. I would never throw that hat away. Never in life. It has been a part of me and my journey. However, I am wearing the back-up hat for now. The drawstring chinstrap on my old hat has broken three times. It has deteriorated and it will be replaced. Yes, I do feel an attachment for some “things” with which I have deep connections. That hat represents so much more than just an old, worn hat.
The most astounding thing is what the Aussie sun has done to the colour. Both hats started out the same dark grey as the one on the right. Seriously, that is what the sun down here can do. Our black Webber grill cover is also now a light (and I do mean light) grey.
Yes I anthropomorphise objects. For me, some things have feelings. I know how I feel about my Troopi and I do believe that in her way, it is reciprocated. Troopi has a feminine presence with a great deal of strength, power and courage. I love her. I love my hat. Yes, I love some things.
Here is an assortment of photos from the last few days. I may post this as a blog and or a Facebook post. There are several blog entries rumbling about in my head and this was part of one. I have posted this as a short blog entry. Anyway, here are some photos from my walks in the Western Treatment Plant. The WTP, or as some of us call it, the Poo Farm.
I write therefore I am. I share therefore it’s real. I love because I need to.
