Derbal Yerrigan at 6.30am

The moon is full and still up when I set off through the bush to the river – the beautiful Derbal Yerrigan (Swan River). I wind my way down and as I come in sight of the river I am heralded by a kookaburra. They are not native to Western Australia. They were introduced but I am enamoured of them – their laughing song is quintessential Australia for me, like the smell of the bush after rain. I head down with the moon full above me and the cool air a welcome relief from the hot summer days. The river lies in all her glory in front of me. She is magnificent – a swirling mix of colours that I cannot name – wide sparkling watery hues. I keep my eyes on her to learn what I might about this place now. I lived near here as a girl. I learnt to swim in this river. I taught a boy how to kiss on its banks, near to where I live now. My brother and I rode bikes here. I walked along a different part of this river near where my sister was dying in the hospital. It brought a degree of solace. My mother asked me to bring her here after her last diagnosis of cancer. I was 50 she was 81. I am nearly 75 and the river feels significant to my life. When I was a girl, I preferred its calm quietness to the volatile wild ocean. I saw that it was possible to have a garden with trees living near the river and this was not so evident with homes near the ocean. Even then a garden was something I recognised as important to my aesthetic life.

As I walk along the clifftop towards North Fremantle the river opens up into a wide bay. I see a seam or edge where I think river meets ocean. It’s like a ruffled stitched edge of silk. This morning it is very distinct. The mouth of the river is just around the bend. I am enriched by the encounters I have along the way: the archway of a bent tree; peppermint trees reaching to the ground; pungent smells and crisp morning air to breathe. This all happens at the edge of houses built with too much money and not enough taste. I never see anyone in these houses. I note this but my whole being is drawn to the gorgeous winding river. As I arrive at the little park where I turn there is a magnificent view all the way towards the city to my left and to my right the mysterious bend towards the ocean mouth. Below are limestone caves that one of my neighbours who grew up here in the 80’s tells me was occupied by indigenous men that she befriended. They lived in the caves. I reckon they caught plenty of fish here. The caves are mostly visited now by teenagers meeting clandestinely for a joint.

As I wander back the moon is still above me as the sky lightens illuminating the day. I turn my back to the river and walk up the hill through the bush track home. This walk lightens my heart and enlightens my being.