To become dusk

Gang gangs, and an invitation to quiet down

The gang gangs are flying overhead with their telltale croak, and as they sail under low mauve skies they bring an invitation to quiet down, to turn inward, to curl up and in. Through my window yesterday I saw one perched in a tree, his red crest stark against a backdrop of grey. Along with the gang gangs came the rain, the moon incrementing towards shadow, the bogong moths in their numbers and a virus this fortnight.

As the weather cooled and I registered the cogs starting to slow down I wrote my first Autumnal list (inspired by Brooke’s). At first I didn’t think I had anything to put on it, though I knew there were a multitude of things swimming around in my head. How to extract them?

It went a little something like this:

• School snacks (sneaky veg muffins, marshmallows?)

• Update diary

• New fly - orange tent

• Knitting: finish sweater no. 23 for X

• Meal plan - slow cooker, roast chook, dahl, soup

• Spend some time in the garden

• Presents for X and X

From there, more scattered thoughts came and soon enough I had three pages of scribbled reminders and tasks out of my head and onto the page. Since then I have completed very few of the items I listed, but as Jodi Wilson might say, there’s methodology in unpacking the fog in your head and getting it onto paper. I’d say it’s a worthy way to spend a half hour (or less).

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek + a brothy, gingery soup

Along with the writing of lists and unpacking of mental fog, I was unwell this fortnight and spent a couple of days curled up in bed with the cool autumn sun shining through the window. This is how I began thinking about dusk, about how pleasant and soft it is, about how much this season reflects the tonal notes of a day coming to a close, the dusk a gateway to the reprieve of night.

After a week battling illnesses across the family, we each packed a bag and some books and headed oceanside for a weekend, seeking a change of scenery. We lay low, staying mostly close to home with our books (and assessment tasks, for yours truly) and the couch, stepping out first thing in the morning for a brisk walk with the dog and later in the afternoon to catch the sea breeze. I felt breathless and exhausted, but revitalised by the salt air. During busy chapters I yearn for a Georgian prescription of the ‘sea cure’ - but one weekend by the beach will suffice, for now.

Swallows and wattlebirds darted around this scene

---

Other things…

• I’ve been listening to Adrianne Lenker and am deeply grateful for these thoughtful tunes. My spotify algorithm has algorithmed (new word) itself half to death and I feel like a mouse in a spinning wheel listening to the same songs over and over again. Thank you to Sarah Humphreys for sharing Adrianne’s record on her IG stories!

• I found out my favourite poet Kristen Lang has a new book out - I’m ashamed I missed any word of this book or its launch until now. I scurried straight to my local bookshop to order myself a copy and hope to have it in my eager palms very soon.

• Currently reading: Mantle by Romy Ash and I need to debrief. Has anyone else read it? I’m at the halfway mark and can’t put it down. It’s astounding. Shocking, in parts. More to come… #booksinourhands

• Currently knitting: this for my daughter and this for myself.

---

This fortnight is the last of the uni semester and I’m neck deep in library studies assessment tasks. I’ll see you on the other side.

And that’s quite enough for now.

Until next time, travel light x

P.S. If you enjoyed this edition of Suburban Dreaming, a quick tap on the heart goes a long way, and sharing it helps these words find their people. Thank you, thank you.

---

In case you missed it:

Overcome by landscapes

The way the light changes

#booksinourhands: April

---

About the author

Lucinda Bain is a contemporary Australian writer based in Melbourne, whose work explores motherhood, place, memory, suburban life and the natural world. Lucinda is mother to three daughters – a role that deeply informs much of her writing. She is currently studying librarianship at the master’s level, which complements her identity as a reader, writer, researcher and observer of how stories locate themselves in both home and landscape.