I spent a good part of this afternoon reading and resting in the outback.
I may have been waiting for the scheduled storm to arrive but I used my time to good chill -out-effect in my Humpy Bush House.
Sure it is indeed a crude humpy and displays (at least for now) very little of the verdancy of the bush, but give it -- and Nature -- time.
I've now bashed together a bed frame of sorts upon which I can throw a foam mattress along which I lie in repose or contemplation.
After spending so much of my time on a day bed 'inside' -- 'inside' the house or 'inside' on the verandah -- freewheeling it among greenery and vegetables is another ambience all together.
Nothing stops the air or soundscape wafting over you (nor the insects a'crawling). It's like going on holiday in the backyard.
And living there, at least for part of the day -- in a sort of taking-up-residence-way -- connects me more deeply with the 'garden'. It's not about work in the way of gardening chores, or sightseeing, or stocktaking, or horticulture...It's about embracing a qualitatively different perspective only metres from my back door.
There is a tradition of outback places -- sheds -- like this, especially for writers, which is often celebrated.
But in the filmed version of Anthony Shaffer's play, Sleuth, the lead characters fist meet one another over a writing table in a garden. Indeed, a work station hidden within a garden maze.
In my case I wanted shade. So I built me-self some of that.
That's the base line.
The contemporary penchant for gazeboes -- leaves me cold. Form displaces function. Shape ignores meteorology.
But in my case -- do I want shelter from the rain? I'm thinking that if it pours I simply pack up and go inside as anyone who has camped out knows that wet weather is a destroyer of outdoor enjoyment.