Just in time for summer solstice ablutions my neighbour Steve and I moved a 600 pound carved Balinese water bowl into position in the far corner of the bath area and then spent the rest of the day hauling in top soil and pine bark and planting out 18 prostrate juniper bushes. Even though these bushes are slow growing and will require several years before maturing, already the area feels very much the contemplative meditation zzzzz zone. Not that it wasn’t before, but the Zen quality has just jumped up a notch or two.

I could have planted out Australian natives, but besides the spiritual component to the bath garden, the practical aspect is that the juniper bushes will act as more of a fire retardant than the more fire prone Australian bushes.

Being on the south side of the house and susceptible to cold winds, this area probably won’t get much daily “sitting” use (see bench on left), but already, just walking past it is enough to calm the heart. Best time for “viewing” will be in the evening when bubbles pour over the lip of the bath as one slowly immerses their grateful body into the steaming waters. Life certainly has its sweeter moments.

Off the older, grey weathered deck can be seen a new walk way that goes to the back side of the house and my bedroom, thus providing me with more opportunities to greet the Buddha and engage with the garden and surrounding trees.

As an artist I am always looking for emergent qualities. When the cistern was filled with water and I dropped some kangaroo paw petals into it, the tiny waves created a wonderful mosiac of patterns. Almost Christmas like.

May everyone enjoy this time of the year with friends and loved ones; human or otherwise.

Both are recent additions to the landscape at Windgrove and each in their own way, whether static or mobile, provides a service.

The Buddha was purchased because I am creating a secluded zen garden for meditative bathing just behind the house where the present outdoor bathtub is located. Yes, just using plants and stones could do the trick, but as an artist, I appreciate the power of iconic symbols to enhance and move the spirit as well as being an informant or visual representation of the state of mind desired when seeking solitude, inspiration or a quieting of the too quickening mind.

One doesn’t have to be of any religious persuasion to feel the calm and serenity emanating from the Buddha. Complement this with natural surrounds and there is a doubling of the effect.

The Subaru was purchased because I wanted to arrive in Hobart less physically hammered out than when I drove the 1987 Nissan truck.

Being an “all wheel drive” I can still use it to get around the property as seen in the photo. Of special interest is that situated behind the Subaru are trees and shrubs planted on a barren hill side 17 years ago. In the foreground are banksia and kunzia, while behind them are the taller she-oaks.

Like the soft maroon wine colour of the kankaroo paws held in Buddha’s vase, the colour of my new car was deliberately chosen to reflect my wanting to wear my emotions on “my sleeve” so to speak; to be more public with what I am honestly feeling and not suppressing whatever it is I might want to say. Rich and passionate and representative of the heart, it’s a great colour in which to be wrapped up.

As a postscript to today’s journal entry, there are two more photos. Taken in Stuggart, Germany while I was there in June, the first photo tells the story of my friend Bine Braun whose job is to photograph just completed re-finished older Porsches. Some Saudi prince owns this Porsche and 999 others. It was completely stripped back and “cleaned up” for the neat price of US$250,000. Somehow, I feel the photo of my Subaru is a little more elegant. Yes?

And this lichen? It grows on the very front of my truck just between the windscreen and side door. I know that lichen are considered extremophiles, but the tenacity of this one deserves a reward. I suppose it also shows what can grow if one never washes their vehicle in 15 years of ownership.

Well, the view was certainly great while I worked this week installing a new 2,000 gallon water tank at the far edge and on top of the Gully dam. A bit of ditch digging in hard, rocky clay brought forth a few swear words, but I sit here this morning happy that the job is done.

The other two tanks, seen to the right and below this new tank, hold fresh, drinking water that I collect off the several roofs that comprise the Windgrove Centre (house, studio, shower block, shed). This rain water is first stored in tanks down at the centre (around 10,000 gallons) and then pumped up to the Gully Dam tanks as the need arises. What this is all about is insuring that there is great water pressure when showering. I mean, who likes to take a hot shower after a long, hard suffering day and have just a piddling amount of water drip onto one’s sore, tired body?

The new tank, however, will be filled with dam water and will serve two important functions. First, and foremost, is that for the first time in Windgrove’s 15 year history, there is now an immediate and quick response capability for fire fighting. Previously, if a fire were to break out (which happened in the painting studio in 2001) one had to chose between running the three hundred meters to the fire pump by the Peace Garden, starting it and then running back to the house to fight the fire, or, grabbing a bucket, fill it with water from the shower and throw it on the fire. Either way there were problems. The former took several minutes and the latter, although initially quicker, didn’t give much water.

Now, though, if there is a house fire, either of the two fire hoses fixed at opposite corners of the house can be immediately turned on.

The other use of this new tank will be to water the gardens in a more efficient way. And next year, when I hope to build a fairly large garden complex, this will help immensely.

Of course, having the best fire fighting equipment and the best designed garden are useless if there is no water.  In the last 14 months there has been no serious rain to speak of. The water tanks at the house are empty leaving only the Gully tanks three quarter full to provide potable water. The photo shows the level of water in the dam for fire fighting. Although not yet at a serious stage, if no good rain falls in the next couple of months things will start to get a bit parched.

I hate to admit it, but I might be forced to install a water saving device onto my favourite shower. Bummer.

Within all our lives there have been those moments when we have come to a “fork in the road” and have had to choose to go one way or the other. Throughout history the symbolism of such a moment is always ponderous and fraught with indecision.

For years, there was only one road into Windgrove. For years, I was content to travel along it. Yesterday, machinery arrived to fork a new road off of it.

The reason is that Windgrove needs funding. No benefactor has arrived on gossamer wings to underwrite the costs for building the infrastructure of the Windgrove residency program and I refuse, for ethical reasons, to seek government funding. The sale of my art work barely keeps me afloat let alone supporting other artists. In the end there was a choice between remaining whole and self contained or opening up a portion of the land for sale.

Today, as I write this blog, machinery and men are busy creating a driveway to two new house sites that fork off the Windgrove drive.

Exciting, because the money earned from the sale of the house sites (six and eight acres virtual waterfront) will be used for the construction of, I hope, four artist-in-resident’s cabins as well as a multipurpose studio. Exciting, because I sincerely believe in the mission of Windgrove to be a “refuge for learning” and this money will help create this reality.

Sad, because I have had to let loose of land that I have wanted to keep “untouched” by human development. A creation of human habitat for sure, but a loss of habitat for others.

In the end, throughout all the emotional comings and goings of what is the best path to take for Windgrove, great care has been taken in the design of the driveways to minimise environmental disturbance and to create an aesthetic approach. Likewise, the house sites themselves, have been placed in locations following passive solar considerations as well as minimising any impact on the environment. A real challenge over the past year, but the final solutions speak of a high quality of care and understanding of the land.

Whoever ends up living here will be very fortunate indeed.

Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance

Almost every evening for the past month I have been slightly obsessed with drawing up plans for the four Windgrove residency cabins; places where writers, visual artists, musicians and others will stay to ponder their navels if they so choose.

Not overly large (around 250 square feet or 25 square meters max) they must not only sit into the landscape comfortably, but also function well as a comfortable home away from home. Passive solar design considerations, the view from the windows, the layout of the tiny kitchen, the walk to the outdoor shower/toilet and the trees seen along the walk are all important.

What will it be like for someone, who has just flown in from America or Africa, to open the door and walk inside? How will they feel? Will their jet lag be momentarily replaced by an exhale of exaltation?

So, I sit at the dining table, books and papers sprawled out. There is no music on the stereo, the TV remains in the closet and all is quiet save for the wind in the trees and the sound of surf beating into the dunes. I look at each drawing and conjure up a person inhabiting the space between the pencil lines. I imagine the distance between each cabin. I look seven generations into the future and see people walking in and around a matured, landscaped cluster of cabins.

Are the birds singing?

These cabins might not get built for another two years, but I am compelled now to start the design process; a process where the finished cabins will not look anything like what I am drawing tonight. But it is important, at least for me, to explore idea after idea and allow the mysterious growth of new ideas to spring forth from the composted ideas of earlier cabin designs.

In like manner, even planting out this year’s trees takes a certain amount of planning in order that, 100 years down the track, the trees planted now will still be around. With hungry wallabies, rabbits, salt spray and dry, windy conditions, growing trees successfully requires some forethought (and a hell of a lot of work).

This week I took delivery of an order I placed four months ago. Six thousand, four foot long bamboo stakes; one thousand five hundred mulch mats, one thousand five hundred tree guards and 560 seedling trees.  In two weeks, the final delivery of another 940 trees from a different nursery will arrive.

I’m excited.

Tomorrow, just to make sure the planting out of the trees goes easily, I’m planning on having a full body massage.

Love those plans.

Over the past several months, the financial situation here has been squeezing me closer and closer to selling up Windgrove and moving back to America where I was invited to join an intentional community in Hawaii. Not a bad option, actually — if I only think of Me.

However, when I see how important Windgrove is to the happiness and well being and potential development of people, especially children, it pains me to have to give up the vision of Windgrove just because of a lack of money.

So I have wavered; looking for a sign as to the best solution. Praying.

This past weekend the answer revealed itself.

First in the heart stone.

Then in the spirits and little bodies of Brook, Kate and Isabella; aged between nine and eleven.

Three girls.

Three wonderful girls.

Three wonderfully adventurous girls.

After their visit, I knew I had to stay.

So, I have made the decision to sell off some of Windgrove’s magnificent acreage in order to help secure its future.

The details are still to be worked out, but, most likely, two blocks of ten acres each will be sold at around US$200,000 to $300,000 per block.

Enough to build three “retreat” cabins with one adjoining kitchen and bath.

Enough to offer free food and board to those lucky individuals selected to the Windgrove Resident Program.

Enough to supply firewood to the Peace Fire for an indefinite period.

Enough to plant out another 10,000 trees.

Enough to allow me to continue carving sculptures to place along the Peace Path.

Enough to, maybe, fly to Hawaii and visit my friends for a vacation,

but knowing that I will be returning back to Windgrove.

At the Forest Rally this past Saturday, ten thousand people walked and carried banners through the streets to voice and display their concern over the continual destruction of the Tasmanian rain forests.

At one particular moment in the march, as I looked at the massed crowd curving its way back and further back again into the heart of downtown Hobart, I felt immensely elated and joyful and part of a whole greater than any one person.

Being with the masses was a spiritual high. Chanting, walking with a slow, rhythmic cadence, waving placards, beaming smiles and absorbing the positive energy coming off everyone, it was enough to induce an immediate enlightenment. What a buzz. However, there is the saying: “after enlightenment, the dishes”.

By Monday I was shovelling dirt again.

The last three days have seen me in the ditches laying water pipes. Over half a kilometre (500 yards) of pipe. My legs beg to sit down. My back would love a massage.

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This is the dishes aspect of life.

In the end, though, there doesn’t seem to be too much of a difference between Saturday and today, because this afternoon, as I looked at the twin pipes (one for irrigation, one for drinking) curving their way along the ditch, I felt immensely elated and joyful and part of a whole greater than any one person.

These pipes represent both the drinking water for all the many guests who will visit Windgrove over the coming years and the dam water for the small orchard and garden where apples, tomatoes, spinach, squash, blueberries and other beings will come to life and flourish. Such nourishment.

As an aside to the Forest Rally, let me say how proud I felt that in this tiny state of Tasmania such an enormous gathering could take place to protect the trees. Would this have happened in America? I doubt it. In Europe or anywhere else? I doubt it. In every place other than Tasmania, the environment is off the agenda. Only here will people still take the time to walk the streets to keep the environment politicised.

May peace prevail on earth. May the forests be saved. May clean water be freely available to all.

Finally, the first tender shoots of grass are poking through the top soil.

The past three weeks have been arduous, yet fulfilling, and the placement and landscaping of all the guardian rocks at the entrance to the house is now complete.

This could not have been done without the help of my “unexpected guest”, Daniel, who only left two days ago after spending three weeks here. With all the moving of stones and soil, Daniel with his younger body came through okay; I needed to go into Hobart last week to have my extremely sore legs massaged in order to continue working.

And yesterday, Windgrove was gifted with a Peace Pole from The Byakko Shinko Kai, an international organisation (based in Japan) dedicated to world peace and raising the consciousness of everyone and every living being on earth. Its activities are rooted in the universal prayer for world peace: “May Peace Prevail on Earth” as seen in English and kanji on four sides of the pole.

Especially interesting to me are their Mandalas and their affirmations of gratitude to Nature where people are encouraged to express daily their deep appreciation to the earth, the oceans, the mountains, the air, rocks, animals, plants, and everything else in nature.

More can be found on their web site: http://www.byakko.or.jp/en/

Now, if I can only find some way of keeping the wallabies from eating all the new grass before it has time to establish itself.

Like the gods suspended above the stage in a Greek theatre who arrive in the nick of time to solve a difficulty, two separate events allowed the placement and landscaping of guardian stones in front of the house.

When the three dolerite boulders arrived on a rather large ten wheel truck, I was fearful of just dumping them in location thinking they could just roll through the house. Depositing them 100 metres away (with a big roar as they crashed down off the tip truck’s tray) saved the house, but how does one then move a three and a half ton boulder into position?

Easy, if there is a 38 ton excavator handy.

But, even though the boulders were placed in the correct spot on either side of the entrance, for the first few days they looked out of place, almost harsh. I began to fret over how to soften them into the landscape.

On Monday evening, after a busy day working in the studio plus talking to two sets of tourists from New Zealand and Canada and easing into a bit of stupor preceding bed time, there was a knock on the door. Standing next to his bicycle was a young German asking permission to stay for the night.

At first I will admit to adamantly telling him “No!”, but seeing the tired and disappointed expression on his face, my “welcome the unexpected guest “ side of my heart prevailed over the “give yourself some privacy” side.

I showed him a tent, the path to the beach and said: “I’ll see you in the morning”.

Well, Daniel has been here for three days now using his muscled 28 year old body and artistic mind of a graphic designer to create a more pleasing entrance to Windgrove.

Once again, I have been reminded how good things can come in big or little packages. The key is to simply stay open to the possibility that a solution will present itself.

Last Friday’s journal entry focused on a few drops of water coming into the house. Well, maybe more than a few; a flood.

What I failed to mention, though, was that while I was dealing with this inconvenience, the big effort of the day was in overseeing the completion of the last dam to be constructed at Windgrove in the past two weeks. All up, two new dams were built with the third one on Friday simply an enlargement of an existing upper reservoir for the Peace Garden pond.

Built between the she-oak hill on one side and the hill of the large keyhole circle on the other side, the biggest of the dams is the Gully Dam (above photo). It is purely practical in that it will allow for a good sized garden as well as an instantaneous bush fire protection system through a gravity fed system of fire hoses.

Because both hills had exposed dolerite outcrops dropping down their sides going into the gully, there was every chance that all we would hit when digging started was more rock or gravel (meaning no dam). But…. we hit a good seam of clay and were able to create a waterproof dam 100 feet (30 meters) long,16 feet (5 meters) at its deepest point and 75 feet (22 meters) wide along the Gully Dam’s dam wall.

Not only was it a joy to know that Windgrove’s future water needs would be met, it was also a joy to see how Andrew, the operator of this massive earth moving machine, could handle it with such skillful sensitivity and grace. There is still a lot of work to be done in the digging of a quarter mile long trench and the laying of two sets of pipes (fire/garden water and drinking water) as well as all the junctures and multiple fittings, but the really big work has been accomplished and for this I am happy.

Just below the Peace Garden a small reflecting pond has now been installed. Presently, it looks a bit raw and maybe (to some people) even unnecessary, but for the past four years the thought of putting in another water element kept entering my imagination.

Who am I to question the muse?