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My housemates have gone off to our community choir practice. I opted to stay home. I’m tired and didn’t think I could generate upbeat energy this evening, despite the general cheeriness of the group.

I thought I’d listen to a new download of an MSIA meditation practice and that might help me rebound. Instead I was seduced by the sunset occurring as I write, so I’m sitting on our deck with my iPad and a drink. I’m telling myself this is just a different sort of spiritual activity. It feels like it.

As I settled in to watch the shadows over Farmer Scott’s grassy meadows growing long and deep, I realised I haven’t spent much time in my own company recently. Granted, I’m an extrovert, but alone time is important, isn’t it?

I wish this blog had audio so I could share the raucous sounds of the black cockatoos who’ve moved into the neighborhood. Typically, the birds screech, but I didn’t realise they also converse in raspy dialogue, sometimes complaining and sometimes just burbling. Are they really as hysterical as they sound?

None of this noise is particularly conducive to the peace and quiet we moved to the country for. But neither are the junior magpies endlessly whining, the small kookaburras trying to learn to laugh properly, and the caged white cockatoo across the road that imitates a horse neighing or a lawn mower.

Would I trade these moments for any place else. Not on your life. There will never be this again. And, the cockies have moved on.

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