Five O'Clock Contemplation

 Larrawa Station (still)

After five pm here in the north is magic. The wind drops, the temperature lowers, the light is a soft muted red-pink, and the crickets are chirruping. Everything glows. Occassionally a huge flock of white cockatoos soar up into the sky looking for a tree to settle in. The station horses quietly chomp grass, oblivious to the tourists photographing them. Campers are sitting and chatting or just sitting. 

Contemplation through song

Station horses meander around the camp

Large termite nests. Moon beyond.

We are freshly showered. Mark is singing and having a beer, and I am reading my book whilst having a glass of white wine (the book I thoroughly recommend - "American Dirt" by Jeanine Cummins about a Mexican family trying to escape to the US). 

Largest shower head in the history of camp showers

It has been a day of contemplatation; to borrow the name of the series of paintings by Mark Norval that I mentioned yesterday. We did almost nothing - no driving, no walks, no repairs, no sightseeing.

Although we did move the campervan three times to get the perfect blend of shade, sun, and wind protection as the day progressed, laughing at ourselves because - even on the third move - our campervan was the only one lined up at a different angle to all the others. It is clear the best option for two professors is not to try to figure out wind/sun/shade dynamics, but rather to simply copy what others are doing. 

It is a very unusual feeling having so much time when most of our lives are lived with time so carefully calculated and filled. I am pretty good at handling the situation (by which I mean not working); although I havent cracked it fully as some sort of weird-work-related-neuroticism tends to kick in late at night when I try to sleep. 

Mark just commented on the redness of the sky. I think he has found the magic.

Sunset at Larrawa Station