Something in the air

There's something in the air, and not just the unexpected clouds and warm winds carrying whirly whirlies.  There's a feeling of quiet discontent creeping into camp. First timers like ourselves are full of questions; What job will we be given? How many hours will we work? How tiring will it be?  For old hands and repeat returners it's the wisdom of knowing what lies ahead. Yep, long hours, tiring jobs, extra people sharing limited facilities, overflowing septics.  When I catch myself thinking ahead I remind myself it can't be that bad, plenty of volunteers have chosen to return, and hey, at the worst, it's only 7 days!!

Our camp fire gatherings have grown to around 30 people with more caravans and guests arriving tomorrow. Gone has the security of knowing you'll sit beside a favourite and have a conversation that grips you. Whilst there is no one we dislike we certainly enjoy the company of some more than others.  It's no surprise they are the ones with the positive outlooks and a quick wit. Although, even some of those are struggling as the crazy week fast approaches.

Today, as I felt my blood pressure rise I realised I hadn't had a dose of quiet time under a gumtree for a few days.  So, after a quick bite at a favourite bakery, Will dropped me off at the Historic Telegraph Station Reserve.  My plan was to either have a long walk or find a big tree to sit under. As the temperature was over 30 and I was looking at the walk taking me into the heat of the day I found a tree but not before exploring the historic buildings.

Whilst the information on the building of the telephone line was interesting it was the stories of how this impacted on the indigenous communities that gripped me. From 1932 the station was known as The Bungalows, a school slash home for half caste children, we now know as the Stolen Generation. To help put their story in perspective I wondered what my life would be like had my mum been removed from her family because of her fathers German ansestory?  Even though I've read the history I still find it hard to comprehend that this tragedy was happening in such recent times.  I'd wondered when or if I would find this history told in Alice Springs and I'm very glad I stumbled upon it as I looked for my tree to sit beneath.

I found my tree. I made sure it was one with a view of the the MacDonnell Ranges. Yes, the desert is getting under my skin. The rocks now call me in the way the Victorian bush has for so long. They are so big and strong and sturdy.  I felt the tension of the day slip away as I sat on the watered green grass watching the parrots and galahs feed, the finches play in puddles beneath taps and the sunlight bounce of the range.