Mullet!

 White gum flowers mean the mullet are fat. In the evening lightning blazed and thumped around the inlet. It was still warm. I could hear mullet jumping, they were busy catching summer evening bugs, the sound of someone wading through water. Mullet like to lay up when the water is warm and shallow. I couldn’t think of a better excuse in court than CV19 to indulge in a bit of poaching.

   

This time last year I was in the same spot on my veranda and heard the mullet. It was quite dark, so I pulled on my head lamp, grabbed the net box and walked the net out into the inlet. In the morning I drove up the track to ring my boss to see if I was going up the mountain to the tower. She said yes and for some reason that’s when I remembered the net. I had to race home, strip down to my undies and pick up the net. The water was so shallow the net was practically beached and of course there was not a single mullet.

  

 About a week ago, just as the tourists had left our little forest and sea town (population 500), there was a sudden explosion of new travellers. Caravans, camper vans. It was so weird. I know everyone’s talking about herds lately and this herd of virus refugees had decided to leave the city and stay in a tiny town full of old people, strip mining the only supermarket in town for their supplies. Chaos. The supermarket owner took matters into his own hands, banning all-of-towners from the shop. It wasn’t a popular move for the visitors but they can still buy deliveries online. They just can’t come into the shop. I went in yesterday and the de-escalation of stress at the checkout was visible on all the workers’ faces. They’ve been doing it tough.

  

The banksias are flowering and the honey eaters are being thugs, honey possums are good entertainment for spotting at night. Selkie follows me everywhere, like she thinks I’m secretly packing for a trip. She’s picking something up, a generalised societal anxiety. I’m not feeling overly anxious, in fact I told my son this morning: ‘I think I was born for this shit.’ He laughed and said yeah, the apocalypse will sail right over him.

   

Now all the visitors have to go home tomorrow as the state premier imposed regional borders for an indefinite time. I won’t be able to visit family as I think my border is the Frankland River but maybe people should just stop moving around altogether. In fact, I’m sorta pleased. My thinking is pretty scatty and it’s difficult to get creative work done. I’ve written a note and pasted it to the fridge with a list of things I should do every day. It’s being … um … wilfully ignored. My office, the laundromat, is still open, so I’ll be there Tuesday, zooming my students.

Stay well Bloggers. Let me know what you are up to.