Into the Everlasting Arms

Each morning, I look across from my sunroom to the Dandenong Ranges National Park.

Sadness has come to my heart since news broke yesterday afteroon that two young women (unknown to me) named Jodie Gater and Stephanie Gestier were found dead high up in the park.

Reports indicate that Jodie and Stephanie, who had been missing for a week, had taken their own lives.

The tragedy of young lives cut short and the overwhelming sadness that must have engulfed their families haunts me.

What a society, what a world have we built for our young that they cannot feel secure, creative, and hopeful within its bounds?

Ten years ago, this very month, a young woman came to my home who I had never met before. I only met her for an hour or so.

One month later she was dead by her own hand.

The poem below was written then.

My thoughts and prayers are with the families and friends of Jodie and Stephanie.

These young girls/women are now in The Everlasting Arms.

PERCEPTION

How did I not see
the troubled heart and spirit?
Did I only look at you
to see myself
reflected back?

And if I
thought you carefree
was that only the perception
of my own comfort?

Why could I not see
through your body frame
to the pain
of old time’s torment
in your soul?

Eyes to see
a heart to understand
are what I need
to see the wounded Christ
in your life

For help or information visit beyond blue.org.au, call Suicide Helpline Victoria on 1300 651 251 or Lifeline on 131 114.

Sunday: a prelude

Went a-walkin' this morning - to the patisserie. Yesterday afternoon brought rain to Upper Gully. Miss Eagle was in bed early but presumes that it rained through the night too. This morning was fresh, there were dripping trees and bushes and the sun was trying hard to shine through the cloud. It did succeed.

At the moment, some eucalypts are in full flower - those with a red/pink flower.

This delights the birdlife who are noisy and partying.

Like this fellow

The patisserie is Arena Boys Bakehouse at 4/79 Glenfern Road, Upper Ferntree Gully.

It is open every day - except Good Friday and Christmas, methinks.

Above are some of their wide range of goodies.

Below are the goodies Miss Eagle purchased: one each for Miss E and Herself.

• Two ciabatta rolls
• Two cannoli
• Two rum baba

Home again.

Here is the creek in front of our place. Ferny Creek.

And this beautiful red parrot was feeding quietly in a neighbour's bush

while his partner fed in a tree above.
A lovely prelude to Sunday.

Miss Eagle loves paper, loves printing, loves print, loves font. It is with great joy that she has discovered that this year is the 50th anniversay of the introduction of that famous and ubiquitous font, Helvetica. There is a movie. There is a blog.

Miss Eagle is a would-be-if-she-could-be calligrapher and, since the introduction of the personal computer, has transferred this love affair to fonts. She loves fonts: fonts to suit the words, fonts to express a mood, fonts just to lie beautifully on the page. Be still, my beating heart!

One of the limitations of Blogger, is its ultra-limited choice of fonts. No Helvetica. Neither MS Word nor MS Publisher has Helvetica. To download it, it has to be purchased. So ubiquity doesn't travel free, more's the pity!

So Miss Eagle, who has a penchant for sans serif fonts, tends to prefer Trebuchet in Blogger. Where there is a wider choice, the equally ubiquitous Gill Sans in all its variety is a favourite.

The movie is not due in Melbourne until 21 July - the Kiwi cousins across the ditch are getting it first.

In the meantime, happy birthday Helvetica!

Art will out

Entry to Estevao's home in the favela: Photo Tuco Reines

Estevão Silva da Conceição at work

Estevao's Garden

Miss Eagle watched again this morning the wonderful documentary, Gaudi in the Favela. The blogosphere has a large slice of it dedicated to home making, home decorating, home renovation. A lot of this has a significant consumerist element. In other words, one of the hallmarks of a major proportion of such blogs is consumption whether it is the furniture, the appliances, or the DIY stuff from the hardware shop.

Estevão Silva da Conceição's home in a favela (shanty town) in the centre of Sao Paulo, Brazil is quite a different and brilliant twist on making a place home and decorating it. The favelas of Sao Paulo are the domicile of the poor: the very, very, very poor. In a nation with huge demarcations between rich and poor, the favelas are a testimony to economic isolation.

At some stage in his life, Estevao started doing things to his place. Estevao's home, in the favela of Paraisopolis, has a small footprint so, at times, Estevao has gone up. He has mosaic-ed everything. A lot of Estevao's materials are found not purchased. They are then covered in concrete and whatever goes into making a colourful, interesting and artistic mosaic. His work is reminiscent of the work, in Barcelona, of the great Spanish architect, artist and designer, Antonio Gaudi.

The film, Gaudi in the Favela, depicts a man, without schooling or knowledge of Gaudi, who has built a Gaudinian castle with next to no resources. One day a young architectural student walks through the favela and discovers Estevao's home. She cannot believe that Estevao has never heard of Gaudi; that he is not consciously attempting to imitate Gaudi.

This meeting, in time, results on a trip for Estevao to Gaudi's city, Barcelona. Here Estevao comes face to face with the work of the master - from the great mosaics of Park Guell to his great unfinished Sagrada Familia.

Gaudi in the Favela is about the triumph of the human spirit. In the darkness of the slums, the glowing light of creativity can transform, console, encourage.

Finally, Miss Eagle has to say that well-executed and innovative mosaic has a penetrating and uplifting quality. It relies on colour - usually bright and exuberant. Its pattern rewards exploration. It makes one's spirit sing and soar. Melbourne, at the bottom end of this island-continent, is a long way from Park Guell and Paraisopolis but there is a lovely work in Bairnsdale, Victoria which, for Miss E, is evocative of Gaudi and Estevao. It is around the perimeter of a roundabout in a busy street. It is public art full of colour and joy.

Susie, chai and the green bean

Miss Eagle wants to show her favourite tipple. It is a tea-based chai that comes from Cafe Green Bean in Belgrave. There is chai that is a mix of herbs and spices but no tea. It is made by boiling/infusing in milk. This could be done with tea-based chai too but Miss E, dear Reader, prefers just to make it like tea - by putting the leaves, herbs and spices in a teapot and pouring over boiling water. Miss E then drinks it without additives - no milk, lemon, no sweetener. Miss E delights in the fragrance so much so that, when drinking the chai, it is as if one is drinking the fragrance too.

The cup and saucer is one of a set of six Susie Cooper "black fruit" coffee cans inherited from my aunt.

Orderly journey: orderly death.

Miss Eagle hopes KM was able to prepare for death as if for a journey and that all was in order.

Miss Eagle has just come across this enlightening article about New Zealand writer, Katherine Mansfield. Miss Eagle often thinks about Mansfield because of this quote that is attributed to her (if you, dear Reader, have precise details please share with Miss E):

Whenever I prepare for a journey I prepare as though for death. Should I never return, all is in order.

Your correspondent, dear Reader, has prepared for many journeys. The preparations were never just a case of packing ports (yes, Miss E is a Queenslander). It meant leaving all in an orderly manner. Not only nice to come home to, but what if one didn't come home ever again!

(Miss Eagle knows how many housekeeping experts - some could get their PhDs in the topic - are out there in the blogosphere. Miss E could never be placed in this category!)

Then one day, Miss Eagle came across the Mansfield quote and though "Aah! Know exactly what she means." Do you identify with this, dear Reader? If so, please add a comment.

Tupperware and a Drag Queen. But, oh, the Decor!

Over at The QueerPenguin, Sam has got himself into Tupperware. The hostess with the mostest for this mushroom-quiche-and-champagne event was Portia Turbo, a drag queen. Sam got bewitched, entranced and enthused and has purchased two hundred bucks worth of Tupperware.

Miss Eagle, dear Reader, finds this an absolute hoot! Tupperware and drag queens! The latest hot and gay thing to do! LOL, Roll, LOL, Roll, LOL, Roll.


In spite of only living two blocks away from a huge Tupperware distribution facility discreetly laid out in a landscape of white standard roses, Miss E has never been a big fan of Tupperware. In fact, she has only managed - in her long existence - two Tupperware parties. At one of them, many decades ago, she purchased this item.

Miss E thought this a good idea at the time for the honey and jam etc on the breakfast table (long before Rachel Ashwell taught us to do better). This item turned out to be a b-i-g nuisance in the pantry cupboard. It took up space. It was difficult to accommodate other items around it. Miss Eagle thinks she should have taken a clue from her friend Heather who had a cupboard specially built to accommodate all her Tupperware!

Miss Eagle is not the biggest fan of plastics except in certain limited situations. She prefers glass. The pantry is full of large glass jars for the flour, sugar, rice, etc. Small glass jars for the herbs and in between ones for the caster sugar and the lentils, etc. She rarely buys new. It is clear that everyone does not share Miss E's passion for glass in the pantry cupboard because she has picked up glass jars not only in opp shops but when left out for the taking when people shift houses.

But there are times when plastic is desirable - for storing left-overs in the fridge; taking lunch to work and so on. Miss E's favourite bit of plastic is Australian engineered, Australian made. These are the Decor products and its distribution centre - sans landscaping - is only a suburb away!

Miss E always recalls what her mother used to say about party-plan products that were not available through retail outlets. Phyllis always used to say "If these products are so good, why can't they be sold off the shelf where they have to compete against other products." Now, Phyllis was no market rationalist. Just very practical and full of the wisdom of good, old-fashioned common sense. So, yes, why can't party plan products compete? When you ask yourself that question, you might be surprised by the answer.

Alannah's Aladdin's Cave at Fitzroy

Alannah Hill - one of Australia's leading fashion designers

With Alannah, it is not just the fashion - the feminine, flamboyance, and whimsy of Alannah's fashion - but it is also about the hair. Hair that is lush, luxe, large and flowered and/or ribboned.

Alannah has style, most distinctive style.

On a recent trip to Fitzroy with Herself, we discovered a factory outlet in Brunswick Street selling Alannah's fabrics, accessories, and trims.

Wonderland!!!

Style! Style! Style!

Even in a factory outlet!

Bejewelled florals!

The fabric above would make a wonderful jacket

Aren't the colours luscious?

This reminds Miss E of fish scales.

Perhaps, she too, could become a mermaid!

The jewels
The oddments
The trims

Planter with heart

Herself has been at it again!

This lovely porcelain planter was salvaged by Miss Eagle from the hard rubbish. Oh, dear Reader, how wasteful and unimaginative people can be! Herself has planted some ivy along with a re-shaped wire coat-hanger. One day, each of us hopes, it will be a pretty heart-shaped ivy in an elegant planter.

Sing a song of freedom,er.. sixpence

The following poem comes from The Peaceable Table.

In these times, many of us are considering the matter of cruelty free eating so it is apt.

It is a little long - but worth it.

FOUR AND TWENTY BLACKBIRDS

Sing a song of sixpence

A pocketful of rye

Four and twenty blackbirds

Baked into a pie.

When the pie was opened

The birds began to sing.

Wasn’t that a dainty dish

To set before the King?

The King got just the piecrust

And really could not say

The dish was very dainty--

For the birds all flew away.

The cooks and maids all chased them

‘Round the royal halls;

The birds just flew much higher

Within the castle walls.

One maid was in the garden

Performing daily chores,

She heard the noise and ran in –

But did not close the doors!

The four and twenty blackbirds

Flew out to open skies.

“The King”, they sang in merry glee

Will not eat blackbird pies!”

The King was very wrathful,

So foolish he had looked;

He vowed that every Blackbird

Would soon be caught and cooked!

The Queen was in the parlor

Eating bread and honey

She heard all this commotion

And thought is wasn’t funny.

She said, “Oh, sire, forgive me,

But I must have my say.

Blackbirds were not meant for pies –

I’m glad they flew away!”

“A bird was meant to soar high

And sing up in a tree.

A man is not the only one

Who wants to live all free!”

The King looked at his loving Queen

Standing brave and tall--

“Her Majesty speaks truly,"

He said to one and all.

It hurt my pride to think that

A bird defied a King:

But Kings and knaves and blackbirds

All share one needful thing.

He called for pen and parchment

And wrote a public order:

"Let none make blackbird pies

Within my kingdom's border!"

He called his palace workers-–

They gathered in the hall--

And then a very handsome plan

He told to one and all.

Now when the Blackbirds heard it

They all began to sing.

Everyone went right to work –

Yes, even the Queen and King.

They sawed and nailed and painted,

They worked the whole day through.

They made each bird a birdhouse

All bright and clean and new.

Each house was snug and cozy

'Gainst winter’s rain and snow.

The four and twenty houses

Were hung up in a row.

The birds were fed the finest grain-

And sometimes blackberry pie;

(This was just on holidays)

And it was made with rye.

Sing a song of sixpence

A pocketful of rye.

Four and twenty blackbirds

Fly free up in the sky.
--Betse Streng

Easter, The Trad Pad and Life

Easter was a subdued occasion at The Trad Pad due to Miss Eagle's descent into illness once again. Suspicion is now centering on an allergy or sensitivity to antibiotics which is to be explored further.

As you have seen, dear Reader, Miss Eagle and herself have placed little preludes to Easter around the Pad. Miss E decided she wanted something like a Tree of Life to celebrate Easter. The Tree of Life is an ancient idea. And Miss E wanted to move away, at least a little, from bunnies and eggs. True, they symbolise new life but, do admit, dear Reader, they are commercialised and over-used.

So Herself set about the execution of the idea. Now, dear Reader, Miss E doubts that we got far enough away from bunnies and eggs, but there are butterflies and beautiful ribbon and the peonies are flamboyant and profligate (and they light up at night).

See what you think!

The Trad Pad Tree of Life

Detail -The Tree of Life

MAY YOU AND YOURS, DEAR READER,

BE RICHLY BLESSED WITH THE HOPE AND ENERGY OF NEW LIFE

AT THIS EASTERTIDE