As the coral bleaches I remember annual holidays camping on beaches along the Queensland coast. My grandchildren now continue that tradition.
Fish my father used to catch are diminishing in number and species, garbage floats on the surface of the Coral Sea. I remember the colours, textures and refracting light through a glass bottomed boat while honeymooning on Brampton Island. I knit in the traditional patterns of my Scottish Islander ancestors, a canvas, one row at a time, breaking waves bringing to shore the salty ghosts of long gone corals, fish, seaweed, and shells.
From the depths of blue greens through the brightest hues to palest pastels, The acrylic yarn comes all the way from China in a range of ombre dyed balls. The threads are left "blowing in the wind" hopeful for regeneration in the spirit of the Rainbow Warrior to seafarers and the Pacific Island peoples as custodians of the Pacific Ocean.