More about Menindee

After reading my last, rather gloomy post you may wonder why I continue to go back to that arid outback land. After this year it’s a good question.

There are a few answers…..

• Beckler’s Botanical Bounty is an interesting, and important, project. When the rains come plants will grow, and we will be able to see what has survived, what may take longer to bounce back. We will collect more so that the Herbarium has material over a range of conditions for scientific research.
• There’s the camaraderie of the artists, friends who share a similar passion.
• There are friends in Menindee too. It’s a little town, but has a strength and resilience.
• The Fella and I have caravanning adventures around these trips, to the Flinders Ranges, the Coorong and places along the Murray River.
• I learn so much, about botany, environmental connections, about geology and geography, and people.

But the main answer is not as easy to encapsulate. It is as far away from the city as it is possible to be; physically and more important, spiritually. It is Big Sky country, stretching as far as you can see, with the blue sky arching overhead.

This photo was taken in 2016. No where near as green now, but the horizon still stretches away.

And the clouds will take your breath away.

There is peace. I was going to write “quiet”, but the raucous galahs woke me up at sunrise every morning. However, you get my point. For over a week I can be in a place with no traffic, no TV, no radio but very good coffee! At night it seems like just the kangaroos and me are still awake.

At night the stars stretch across the sky. I miss them back in the city.

But the real magic of the place is morning and evening. My Mum taught me to love the light of those times. It is soft and pink and glowing, or yellow and pink and brash, but always beautiful.

There must be hundreds of photos of sunsets at Copi Hollow, the lake we camp beside, and I have at least half of them!

And the morning light, when a fresh, new day is appearing, and anything is possible.

It’s an ancient land, a powerful land, that gets into my soul and makes me want to return.

Another thing….

You can tell from my last post that I found the effect of the drought very distressing. But I can return to the comfort of the big city, with water on tap and no stock to water and feed. People living in those places cannot escape the conditions, and I admire their courage and determination to stay. But they need help. Below are some organisations that were suggested to me by people in Menindee. If you wish to donate, there are many fine organisations helping those in need. These ones may reach a little closer to Menindee.

You may have heard of the iconic Royal Flying Doctor Service. They do more than fly patients from remote locations to hospitals, although that is a vital service. Their mental health services would be very necessary in these times, and maybe a reason to donate.

The Country Women’s Association is another iconic organisation of the bush. They are famous for their scones, but they also provide disaster relief. Families can apply for help with household bill, schooling needs and so on.

Lastly, the TAFE in Menindee was fundraising for Buy a Bale. You can choose to buy hay for stock, water, fuel for transportation or even hampers from local supermarkets for farming families.

(A donation or not, to these organisations or not, is entirely up to you. Thank you for even considering.)

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Soon I will write about some arty things I have been up to. In the mean time you can subscribe to my fortnightly Letter from my Studio, and find out more about my art. You get a free feather drawing too!

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Back in Menindee

Beckler’s Botanical Bounty Project is happening again in Menindee, outback New South Wales. This is my seventh time up here, so many of you are familiar with the story. But just in case you don’t know, here is the short version. (For the longer version you can jump to our website Beckler’s Botanical Bounty. Sorry, can’t do a hyperlink.)

In 1860 the Bourke and Wills Expedition set up their supply camp in Menindee, a small town on the Darling River. The Expedition was to be the first crossing of the continent from Melbourne in the south to north at the Gulf of Carpentaria. While Bourke and three others made it there, the Expedition was a disaster.

However, our project is connected to Hermann Beckler, the doctor on the Expedition. He remained in Menindee, where he had resigned in furious disagreement with Bourke. Beckler was fascinated by Australian plants and collected widely in the area. His friendship with Ferdinand Mueller at the Melbourne Botanical Gardens meant that the specimens collected by Beckler became part of the collection in the Herbarium.

The Darling River (copyright: AnneLawson 2018)

Fast forward 150 years to 2010, when the Project began as a celebration of the 150 anniversary of the Expedition. We have been collecting the same species Beckler collected, and then painting these plants.

My Cullen paintings at our Beckler exhibition in Ballarat earlier this year.

There were 120 plants on Beckler’s List. This year we have only 38 more to find!

However, I doubt that we will find any plants to collect and paint this year. (Warning: from here on in I am writing about the effects of drought, and I am feeling angry about the state of affairs.)

The drought has been on the news lately, mainly showing politicians in Akubra hats pontinficating about their ‘generosity’ with belated funding. Up here it hits you in the face.

It is so dry, unbelievably dry. It’s an environment that always looks ragged, but we have always found things growing, often carpets of daisies, things twining through the salt bushes or flashes of colour on the sandy banks.

This year there is so little; no annuals at all. No daisies, not even the fried eggs one that has been so common. No pimeleas dancing in the breeze. No Cullens, the plants I have been painting, not even Cullen discolor a prostrate version and has been growing abundantly on the golf course in past years. (I have found one plant, growing in the nature strip in town!) Not even very much onion weed, that has always grown everywhere.

Even the perennials are stressed. Much of the saltbush looks dead. I say “looks” because a local has told us that with the first rains it will grow again from the centre. But to see a bare landscape, with even the saltbush dead or struggling is heartbreaking.

The mighty river red gums are holding their own down on the banks of the Darling River, but the leaf and bark litter and fallen limbs tell of their stress. Beneath them are Swainsonia greyana ready to burst into purple flower and is the only species that looks to be flourishing. The sennas are holding their own too, providing a burst of yellow in a sere landscape.

There is no moisture in the soil, and there are no roots of the annuals to bind it. So the soil just flies away. The Fella and I drove into Broken Hill on the day of high wind, and we could see the dust storm carrying away the soil.

And it’s not Summer yet.

It is distressing. I admire the resilience and courage of those that live here, building communities and lives.

I know that drought has been a part of the Australian landscape. I find a glimmer of reassurance knowing that the native plants are adapted to these periods of drought. However, I also know that we humans are affecting the climate and that we must reduce our CO2 emissions. Instead we have a government that refuses to set any emission targets, preferring coal over green energy. Some on the government benches refuse to acknowledge that climate change is influenced by human action.

Last month we changed prime ministers, not through a general vote and not over policy, but because some members thought Malcolm Turnbull would loose seats in the next election. These Climate Change Deniers have that sort of influence.

Meanwhile our environment, and the people living in it are suffering.

I know that the plants here have evolved with drought, and when the next rains come there will be a blossoming of life. It’s important to know. But climate change is putting unnecessary stresses on them, and it is that that we must do something about. And that requires serious, concerted political action, and that is what we are not getting.

I was going to leave you with a sunrise photo, help you understand the beauty of this place, but internet connection is so frustrating. (This post has taken nearly a day to write.) I will post more when I get home next week, and show you more than the drought.