In our outings and aboutings, I have noticed that there are certain places which are favoured as rest areas by taxi drivers and people in work vehicles. Usually, they are places with free parking, lots of shade, beautiful views and lots of activity to attract the eye. However, there is one area in a Burnside park which has always puzzled me by its popularity with resting workers. It has shade and free parking, for sure, and the view is fair enough, but, during the working week, activity to watch is limited to a few dogs being exercised, and some grass growing. Until my visit yesterday, I would have said ‘how dull’. But, after some time sitting in my car, pretending to be a resting cab driver, my eyes have been opened, my horizon extended and I know,now, how things work; mostly.
Here’s my path to enlightenment and knowledge. Sitting in the car, I look at the view. I think it would be more inspiring if the Port Hills were visible and the ugly fencing in the foreground were taken away.
Ho hum, tiddley dum; twiddle thumbs. But, wait a minute, something interesting is happening in the rear view mirror. I hop out of the car for a quick inspection, leaving husband happily eyes front, waiting for the glimpse of a hill, or a dog to bound across the emptiness.
and a pile of sticks near dappled depths. But, since no one is in the danger zone to help me trespass across the dams, or find a use for the sticks (Pooh Sticks would stick in the dam, I decide), I return to the car. Husband is not yet bored and neither are our parked neighbours, everyone one of whom has their car determinedly reversed to the action.
So,again, I sit and look and look at the bare-ish expanse before me, and start to wonder if I could take a panoramic view of the landscape. I fiddle with buttons on my camera. I press this one and that one; no panorama setting is to be found. But, hey, what’s this button? Oh my,oh my, is this true? Can my little camera do that and that and this, and this and that one,as well. My camera has a whole other life I have been too busy to see. I am beside myself with excitement. Husband is now ready to leave, but I am too occupied in discovering my camera’s inner existence.
Eventually we get home to supper and domesticity. In the quiet of the evening, I make a note to never again doubt the wisdom of working drivers, or the appeal of a bland view. Therein lie hidden depths and inspiration, and, maybe even the source of hay bale dams. I know, now, how things work!