Not an oncoming train

There's light at the end of the tunnel. It's nearly the end of Mae's chemotherapy. Her 11th cycle was last week and there is now only one to go. The neuropathic symptoms (hand and toe numbness) have been increasing so Dr Leong, her oncologist, has changed her regime and these last two cycles are going to be easier on her. After chemotherapy there is no further treatment planned, it's just a case of watch, wait and hope. If all goes according to plan, the chemo port and stoma will be surgically removed in a few months' time and life can become more normal for Mae.  She looks forward to being able to go back to work at least part time once her strength and stamina improves. The focus now is shifting to The Wedding, planned for May.

I have decided to go back to work. But I won't return to the clinic in Taree where I was working last year and which I left rather suddenly when Mae was diagnosed. They would happily have me back but I have decided to open my own practice at Halliday's Point. I've found rooms and a colleague to share with. Now begins the rather time consuming and complicated process of getting established with many little tasks to get the whole thing up and running. The local GP assures me there will be no shortage of patients, so lets hope that is in fact the case.

Meanwhile, I'm away from home nearly as much as I'm here. David has been soldiering on with the garden establishment, with only the butcher birds for company. Close company. Shadowing him on the mower and darting in for insects. Hanging about when he digs in case a worm shows up. Joining him at the breakfast table...

Eyeing his food on the breakfast table...

Darting in for a swift beakful of margarine at the breakfast table!

Which it didn't much like and spent the next couple of minutes wiping off on the back of a chair.

There are several butcher bird families and a couple of babies. The babies go "eep! eep! eep!" more or less all the time. In the windows, on the deck, on the terrace, on the outdoor table. 

They know all about keeping up the racket long enough that you crack and give them some food.

This magnificent big fellow proceeding majestically down the fenceline is a pheasant coucal. There used to be a pair of them and apparently they mate for life.  But sadly this one is now always alone. I greatly fear that the pile of black and tan feathers we found a couple of months ago may have been the other, fallen prey to a fox perhaps. There are a lot of foxes living down in the heavily wooded creek on the other side of our road.

Hoping to finish off our entry poles, we have installed our ceramic magpie by Bev Hogg, a Canberra artist. Our neighbour Tim spotted it immediately and rang up to tease us about native birds being subjected to taxidermy purely for our decorative purposes.

This rather artistic shot was taken at dawn yesterday as I flashed past Lake George in a Sydney-bound coach, heading home from Canberra.

This second rather artistic shot was taken from inside my cabin on the Grafton XPT just as we were pulling out from Central Station, Sydney in a humongous rainstorm yesterday.  The noise of the rain on the iron roof of the station was incredible. Deafening. Like God's "ride-on" mower.

And finally this photo is for Mae and Nick: the wild black rabbit that frequents our garden. I'm hoping to lure Mae and Nick up to visit us again. I'm using the carrot on a stick approach.