Celia Waldron
It is just day two into a six week rehabilitation program in Ballarat.
It is also going to be the day after the extraordinary rain and wind event. Living for me is safe in a house high enough above the creek coming from Lake Daylesford. Though I just remembered – could the Lake overflow sending a river of muddy water into the pristine creek below, passing the bottom of my garden? A creek so seemingly pristine and clear to a base of white and brown and light and golden gravel that beckons me to drink. It has been that way for the five years I have lived above the creek. I have resisted the call, not wanting to disturb the amazing and beautiful clarity, touched so gently by willow tips. This scene has always won over the illusive call of gold in that creek.
Now stiff joints and unreliable balance creep up saying don’t venture to this tranquil spot, with the risk of an inconvenient fall.
But I digress…
Ballarat and physio and warm pool is on the agenda. Should I go? An ageing decision – wondering “Should I go?” Creswick is badly flooded. There’s no safe way around. Ballarat has closed roads.
A year ago I would have just gone and turned around if necessary. Intrepid, resourceful, decisive, energetic and positive. But now a tedious weighing up of the odds – a waste of precious fuel to have to turn around at Creswick… or before… or after…
Could be an adventure?
