At the very beginning of my conscious memory is the horizon. Mile high clear blue skies above and an endless panorama of baked red earth covered in low scrubby saltbush, bent and twisted by the searing hot winds.
Endless hot days and restless nights listening to the rattle of an old tin roof straining to lose the accumulation of the day’s heat. Hoping that it wasn’t the oockle ogre who came at night to visit naughty children. The amazing sound of rain on a tin roof and siting up late watching the joy of grown-ups dancing in the dust with their feet bare, hands outstretched to catch the scatter of moisture falling gently from the skies above.
Violent red and yellow skies at dawn and ghostly white rainbows arching over the dried up mudflats. The screeching exuberant joy of the countless brilliant flocks of cockatoo’s wheeling and jostling as they circled and danced above. Dead kangaroo’s on the track to town and the baleful glare of the fearless, frightening crows and hawks sitting on these sorry corpses as we drove by trailing huge clouds of red dirt. Dusty swagmen and silent blacks slowly shuffling by at dusk.
And the red red earth, always filling my view. The hazy memory of my own inarticulate child’s delight at being so close to the earth with boundless space and time all around me.
this image was taken with an old Olympus SLR using Kodak Gold 400 asa film