Sunday, February 08, 2009

Spirit of place

Tell us about it...

In the heart of the next morning, under its early carnation sky, Lunt and his dog went round to the horse-yard. The mills were creaking, straining their guts to drag trickles of love from the red powdered earth. The land lay flat all round with its dusty scrubby shade trees making black dawn patches.

Lunt bent down and took a pinch of dust between his thumb and finger, sucked it and swallowed.

“Ah, you bitch country,” he said. “I love you.”

  • Thea Astley, A Kindness Cup

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4 Comments:

Anonymous Jacob said...

"In the heart of the next morning..."

Wonder if that should read 'heat'?

This is from pp. 38-9 of my 1977 paperback edition, so when I get a moment I'll go to the library to see if a later edition has been corrected.

8/2/09 1:44 PM  
Blogger Caz said...

Perhaps not an error, more a poetic gesture?

In the heart ... in the middle of the morning, the centre?

And yes, it's a bitch of a country.

Such is our country.

8/2/09 4:27 PM  
Blogger Father Park said...

Flooding at the one end and burning at the other. In the middle (Sydney) God's blow-flies piss.

11/2/09 8:37 PM  
Blogger Caz said...

Yes, NSW has rather been eclipsed in the catastrophe stakes Father.

I have no clue the extent of the fires up there on the weekend. Last I read there were 60 fires, but not a scrap of news since on how things turned out.

11/2/09 9:33 PM  

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