PICNICS, WRITERS AND KOOKABURRAS.

Last night I went for a picnic in the park with some writers. It was the end of a hot day....trees gave welcome shade...birds flitted and twittered... and then the cool change hit. Bark and leaves fell like hail, wind whipped tableclothes, and the sudden cold made people grab for jackets and blankets (anyone's jackets and blankets) for warmth.

Like most picnics there was food and talk, laughter and 'so what's been happening?' We talked of writing, a few read their work out, and as we packed up I realised in those few hours how much inspiration was all around us.

I must admit to not using my picnic basket a lot these days- but as I packed it I remembered all those Boxing Days when we would pack up the kids, their few favourite 'new' toys from Santa, a picnic lunch made from all those 'leftovers' and head out for the day. Someplace where they could play and run, where we could recharge after the hectic days of Christmas.

Remembered my own childhood, the old blanket that we four children fought to sit on, the metal cups in the zippered holder that made everything taste 'strange'. How Dad would take us for a walk and we'd  pick blackberries or bush limes, he'd point out Slipper Orchids or Greenhoods....Mum would sit back with a book, point to the sky and tell us the names of the birds.....kestrel, willy wagtail, wood duck.

All memories that I have yet to write about.

At the picnic a few of us went for a short walk....who could not be inspired by the trees around us?

The texture, the sound, the smell and feel of them.

But it was also the people around us. As one commented 'they are their own community'-  all these people exercising, in their uniform of sports clothes, most with head phones plugged in, either jogging past or pausing, briefly, to stretch.

There was the two big men, footballers in training, in front of us discussing a recipe. 'Seasonall is good, just a little bit of oil mind you and then...'

The young people loading into a small car with two of them fighting over who was driving. They were shuffling and pushing each other out of the way 'You are not driving, it's my car, yeah but you are such a bad driver, am not, are too and I don't want you to drive, we'll too bloody bad I am...'

The lone man at the table, headphones on, totally focused on his lap top. Not aware of the kookaburra just behind him eyeing off his remaining dinner.

The young family barbecuing. Three young girls playing while father and mother have a 'quiet' argument.

So much to inspire- and I think that's what really intrigued me about last night. It's often good to get out of your usual environment, sit and look around, see what is out there. Shake things up. If you normally write at your desk - take pen and pad out side- see what happens. If you always write in a busy cafe- take yourself to a secluded part of a park- see if there is a difference.

What's that old saying - a change is as good as a holiday....perhaps it is?

Or is it a case of opening our eyes, and really seeing what's around us.  I remember going on a haiku walk up here in the Dandenongs (years ago) - and we stopped at several points to sit still, listen, hear, observe and then write. Because we were there, amongst it, the poetry was so visual and so alive.

Perhaps that's what is needed- to really look around us, notice, observe, listen and more importantly hear.