The Sit Spot

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Today, at dawn I read a poem. Outside the world slowly lightened bleak white, snap frozen, still. The day warmed and I worked my way through it. Then…
Maggie Mackellar
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Every year, or so it seems, I lose myself in January. When I was young it was the month of grace, where February, the real beginning of the year, was so…
Maggie Mackellar
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I’m sitting at my friend’s kitchen table. The Aga hums taking the edge off the cold that seeps in through the thin glass windows and around the gaps of…
Maggie Mackellar
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The rain came and it was perfect. Everything is now full. Even the air is tight with frog song. When I walk across to the stable to feed Maxie Gawn, or…
Maggie Mackellar
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Yesterday I stood on the edge of the Murrumbidgee River. I watched it fat and brown and moving fast. Around me the air was thick with birds, among them…
Maggie Mackellar
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This morning marked a milestone of sorts. I returned to the beach here at home for the first time since injuring my back. It’s been a time of exile…
Maggie Mackellar
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It’s 5pm, the nearly the end of July and the dark is settling. The winter nights draw in like an old man hunched beneath the doona. I can see my breath…
Maggie Mackellar
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It’s only the middle of February, but already the season is turning. I thought I noticed it last week but it seemed a trick of the light, the first…
Maggie Mackellar
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The multiplicity of forms! The hummingbird, the fox, the raven, the sparrow hawk, the otter, the dragonfly, the water lily! And on and on. It must be a…
Maggie Mackellar
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In 1931 Virginia Woolf gave a talk to the London branch of the National Society for Women’s Service. In it she proclaimed that the first thing she had…
Maggie Mackellar
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The days grow quickly short. We’ve passed the turning of the year. There is an urgency to seek the sun, to stay outside until it drops. And this last…
Maggie Mackellar
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May 2019 We are tumbling towards winter, the afternoons are short and last light is a sharp golden blast that I miss if I get caught inside. I rush…
Maggie Mackellar
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