I had an epiphany last night. In the manner of all good epiphanies, it almost made me sit up in bed and shout “Eureka” or some such thing, except that I didn't want to wake Other Kate, and also we had had a significant portion of a box of goon (boxed wine, for those with bad memories), and so sitting up sharply seemed like an ill-advised choice. Instead, I assured myself that I would remember it in the morning, and went back to sleep.
I didn’t remember it this morning.
I remember that I had it, but it’s totally gone, not even leaving a trail of bread crumbs in the direction it went. Oh well, so go epiphanies.
Featherview (the banana plantation, again for those who don’t pay attention) lends itself to epiphanies. When life is easy, and you can spend inordinate amounts of time staring at beautiful distant vistas, your mind sort of invents deep thoughts just to keep you on your toes. Most of these, upon further reflection, are the sort of pseudo-intellectualisms that are best kept locked away somewhere safe and dark and far away from unsuspecting people, so I will not be sharing them here. However, a lovely hippy that we met the other day informed us that it is the astrological New Year, a great time for new beginnings, et cetera, et cetera. So in the interest of starting my new astrological year with a clean slate, I’m going to put down all the things I will miss about Featherview, and then try to focus on the adventure ahead rather than the comfort I’m leaving behind. In the interest of pleasing my inner lurking stage manager, I’m going to do it in list form, because I like lists.
The Definitive List of Things I Will Miss About Featherview
1. The Damn Birds. The magpies were opinionated, raucous, somewhat aggressive, and completely hysterical. They stood a safe distance from us every morning, slowly creeping forward when they thought we weren’t looking, fervently focused on our muesli. We would give them little bits when they performed their devastating rendition of “Dial-Up Modem, circa 1999;” we assumed they were singing for their supper, or breakfast as the case might be, although in reality it’s entirely possible that they were working out an attack plan to storm us and steal all of the grains. They also had another song, heard predominantly in the evening, that sounded shockingly like a kooky old uncle laughing at an off-color joke. A sort of throaty “Har har har,” that lingered uncomfortably on the final “har.” I could never quite shake the feeling that they were laughing at me, which produced a very low-level sort of paranoia, not helped by their habit of peering in through the windows. Amazingly, I’ll miss the feeling of being laughed at by birds. I could try to encourage some other birds to laugh at me, but I’m not sure it will work.
2. Seeing Sunrise. Because let’s face it, it is a very rare occurrence for me to be awake at sunrise, I would not dare to presume that I will manage to repeat it with any kind of regularity. Also, I cannot imagine that I will see many sunrises that will rival these - without getting too flowery, let’s just say that the sun would stain the sky in increasingly dramatic shades of pink and orange before throwing itself above the horizon, rising out of the ocean and sending long traces of God-light back towards Byron Bay. Often, there were an incredible variety of clouds that picked up the light in different ways and tossed it around the valley. Add to this the fact that I was watching these sunrises from the top of a hill, looking over this unspeakably green valley dotted with little ponds and streams and gorgeous gum trees, with the ocean stretching across the horizon, and frequently curled up in a hammock with a cup of coffee, and I dare say that this is an experience that will never be recreated.
3. Sleeping. Not that I need any more reasons to love sleeping, it is probably the love of my life. But this was some seriously spectacular sleep that I was getting. Just screens between me and the outdoors, the sounds of frogs and crickets, and often rain, lulling me to sleep, with stars overhead and no other light for miles. Frequently, I could hear animals shuffling around outside of the flat, which was a little unnerving at first, but I managed to convince myself after a few nights that what I was actually hearing were ghostly footsteps pacing the perimeter. For some reason I found this more comforting.
4. Delicious Bananas. Trust me, I have never tasted bananas this good, which I suppose is as it should be, given that it was a banana plantation. I don’t even particularly like bananas that much, and I would eat 5 of these in a row without even noticing, and then reach for another 5. My potassium levels have got to be simply exceptional right now.
5. The Wonderful World of Outdoor Bathing. I have rhapsodized enough about the joys of the bathtub, but the shower was no bad thing either. I have a new aspiration in life, which is to have an outdoor shower to call my own (definitely not in New York City, because ew). There is just something wonderful about being surrounded by trees while you wash your hair. My shower singing took on whole new dimensions, including one brilliant medley, if I do say so myself, of songs from Into The Woods.
6. Living on a Hill. Don’t get me wrong, there were moments when I was at the bottom of the hill that I was not particularly enamored with the idea of having to climb up it, but it was consistently worth it. Being able to look out over some small part of creation every day manages to make you feel both incredibly removed and omniscient and peaceful, and also amazingly connected to everything you can see. You feel closer to the heavens and yet more grounded. It’s a feeling to which words cannot do justice. Also, there were tomato plants growing all over the hill, so every time I walked from the bottom to the top, I would pick delicious, adorable little cherry tomatoes and they would keep me company on my journey. And by keep me company, I mean I ate them.
7. The Speed of Life. Garry, my wonderful and charming host, would tell me that he would be ready to start some project or another in half an hour. This could mean anywhere from half an hour, to three hours, possibly more, remember that I wasn’t wearing a watch, in an attempt to not be too concerned about these things. There was an abundance of time on the hill, you could luxuriate in it — days lasted forever, and there was never anything that had to be done at any specific moment. Sadly, this took me almost all of my 10 days or so to get used to. New York has exerted much more influence on me than I care to admit, and combined with my Type-A overtones, it appears that I am the kind of person that likes to get shit done, and not stop til it’s done, and work work work, and other such intensely focused activities. By the end of my time there, I felt like I was perilously close to actually being relaxed, possibly for the first time since…elementary school? If I can only take one thing away from Featherview, I hope it is this, that the work will get done, even if you stop for a while to watch the light play over the valley, or to roll around in the mud, or to bugger off to the beach for a nice swim. At the risk of being horribly cliched, life doesn’t stop happening just because you’re not paying attention. Now I’ll just have to hide that attitude from any future employers when I get back to New York.
I could go on and on about the beauties and joys of Featherview, but I imagine that would get rather tedious to read. So I’ll just say, it’s a magic place, full of rainbows and koalas and love. Also, wearing clothes again, especially bras, really sucks.
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