In an aqueous embrace we begin our lives, caressed by the waters of the womb.
In this cocoon of immersion, we begin to develop, to grow, to prepare for the outside world.
All we know is water and darkness.
A quiet, peaceful, calm.
From the salty waters of the womb to the salted water of the ocean, water is the constant throughout our lives.
Water is the river, the ocean , the rain.
It is the tamed and domesticated drinking water supplied to our homes.
Water is the air of the fish, who live and breathe it.
It is the saline, breaking waters of the ocean, the womb of The Goddess, both beautiful and dangerous, reaching off into the horizon.
Calm blue ocean, refreshingly cool on a hot Summers day.
Wild, treacherous and icy cold during the winter months.
At its hazardous peak, it drags men to their deaths, a watery grave under its frigid depths.
The ocean, ruled only by the Moon and its tidal pull.
Water is the river, supporting the towns and cities sprawled along its banks.
Rivers that are the veins, the very life blood, of the countryside.
Farmers draw from the river to give life to their crops, the crops that feed a nation.
In times of drought, as the rivers recede and flow away to nothing but a stagnant puddle, entire communities shrivel, livelihoods are lost.
Animals come to drink but die slow miserable deaths, when they find the river bare.
Death is a part of life in country Australia.
The animals die, along with the grass, the trees, the farms, the towns.
All hope is lost, life becomes harder as the river stops.
The sky is mercilessly clear and water tanks run dry.
We pray for rain, manna from the heavens.
Prayers go unanswered and the terrain stays barren.
Sometimes for months, sometimes years.
Then one glorious day, clouds begin to gather upon the horizon, dark clouds, clouds pregnant with rain.
People mumble excitedly, not quite daring to hope.
Then it breaks.
Rain soaks the cracked, hard as granite, ground.
Soaking down into the depths of the Earth, finding the dormant, drought resistant seeds, deep underground.
As it flows downhill, the rivers start to rise and begin to flow once more.
Crops are watered, cattle get to drink, the survivors among the wild fauna return to the river.
The countryside takes on a blush of green.
The trees sprout new growth.
Life itself, is again restored.
Water is also fun, recreation during the summer months.
Fishing, boating, swimming.
People come from near and far, flocking to the dams and lakes for the Christmas holidays.
An escape from the relentless heat, swimming deep into the cool waters of the dam.
Feeling the sleek water wrap around your body, hair trailing out behind you.
Water that is warm on top but cooler the further you descend.
It has an earthy, mineral smell that permeates your clothes, body and hair for days after your swim.
In a good year the dam is full, at capacity.
Spillways open, allowing the water to run downstream, filling the river.
During a bad year, drought, it can be not much more than a puddle.
Our bodies are made up of a high composition of water.
We will perish from thirst long before we will succumb to hunger.
Water is our constant companion throughout our lives and as with the other three elements, we cannot survive long without it.
From our very conception and growth, in the waters of the womb, water is our life source.