A theme is beginning to form in my relationship with Exmouth.
Not sure if it is all about ME or if I have simply caught the spirit of Exmouth itself. Depends who you ask...

So what is happening is, in my open-eyed wonder, I am drawn to learning and the consequential synchronistic unravelling of journeys.
To set off with one or no plan and be entirely open to anything means things are sprouting into some unexpected tropical varieties. Colourful blossoms and strange tasting fruit!

It's delicious and decidedly curious...

Here goes a most recent plan as determined by universe:

No plan

Driving HungryGo to farm to buy melon
Most delicious freshest melon I've tasted
Meet the farmer, Len (On the run) and his partner Bev (Loves Chocolate Crackles). Len shares scores of knowledge on caravaning and travelling / working.
Then Len talks about indian spirit guides with timely advice. Turns out he is a Reiki master and other such unsuspecting things. I think I have a crush on the old guy. He asks me if I know what colour my aura is. I settle on pastel rainbows.
And then delivers me lessons I never learnt about the birds and the bees!
(Of the actual pollination of vegetable variety.)
Next day I come back to farm to learn what I've been wanting to learn about growing things.
Pick, trim, do chalk signs and eat with crew and learn many tales of the farm folk.
One guy who is living out back is Al - who among being into purple, videography and his feminine side - has learnt to make dreamcatchers
Come back following day
We visit bird man - Yorky.
Get given feathers (and a few inappropriate feels) but decided it could be exotic bird feather payment so I didn't kick the old man's walking stick from under him.
Also received bizarre entertainment with peanuts, bird beak tap dancing and pretend bird strangulation and of course old Yorky turns of phrases.
Then I return to farm with Al to yabber about the masculine and feminine - and watch Al build my dreamcatcher using eagle feathers I had collected from road kill days earlier.
Topped with a few pink gallah pretty ones at the top.
I listen good.
... and it all came together.


Here is the same story, in pictures.

 

It can happen so quick.

One morning you wake up on a cloudy day by the beach. After combing the shores for the twentieth time... restlessness sets in. So you hop in the van to visit your sexy mate Tony at the visitor's centre. All amused with plaits in your hair and a carton load of Coffee Chill you ask baffling questions of Tony like "What does it mean that a turtle is my totem?" and you attempt to help the tourists by offering them your recently vacated camping site for free! Then mid sentence, Tony gives you your first child.

It was something I'd always hoped would happen in Exmouth. But I thought it would be planned - after some research and investigation. Instead, I was just given this baby, unexpectedly, to nurse.

His mother was killed only hours earlier.

So with a day full with nothing, I excitedly took on the task of delivering baby to CARE group volunteer Sue whose home has become a haven for joey's who have lost their mothers.

I mean, really, her home is a haven for joeys. Less so a haven for her slightly disgruntled husband. As you can imagine, it's like minimum 7 babies, all year round... feeding, pooing, jumping babies!

These babes need lots of time and CARE relies on volunteers and donations. So I'd like to work out a way to encourage travellers to help out (properly) for one day when they visit Exmouth. Seeing as slowing down on the roads isn't working! The edges are splattered with roo bodies. And many have babies in their pouches...

This little fella is really crook. He has pneumonia. May not make it.
I tried my best to send him healing energy built up from days of meditating in the bush...

This duck was also handed over to Sue. Well, he's actually a HUGE bird whose breed name escapes me. But he can't walk due to some damage he sustained from a recent storm in Exmouth.

So I offered to help with the countless care duties.

I swept up pellets of poop, which were placed on the vege patch like slow release fertiliser.

I sewed kangeroo pouches out of second hand tshirts.

I hung washed ones out to dry.

And got some lessons in feeding and nursing.

Most of all I enjoyed the way the roos have a good old butt scratch when they get out of their pouches.

I like it when days evolve this way, when you step out with no plan but with a happy spirit and silliness! And you get thrown into opportunities quite wonderfully.

[current mood] Lindt Caramel Crunch & Grey Nomads Cackling in the Caravan Park