Sunday, August 29, 2010

A walk in the black forest

It is now the season of Gurrung (hot dry weather) in the eyes of the indigenous people who are the original people here.

Yesterday, we went for a short walk through a recently burnt out area of land about an hour’s drive from the city. It was quite a hot day, around 35 degrees C, trying to be dry but not quite succeeding. There was some protection from the sun, as the eucalypt trees had been burnt through at the lower level, but had started their regrowth and provided some shelter. Down at ground level the fire had spared little before it, and small animals must have run for their lives or run into holes in the ground to escape the flames and intense heat.

The plants, however, without the ability to run, or even hide; stood their ground as the flames rushed past, charring their trunks black and incinerating their leaves. Walking through the area, most is black and the remaining fallen leaves on the ground, the ones which were not immediately burnt, crunch underfoot.

But, once the fire passed, it was not long before rehabilitation began.

Lizards and skinks were out and about, searching for food; and the trees and cycads were growing again.

There is beauty in the burnt remains and promise in the regrowth – hope for another season, as both plants and wildlife wait for the cooling rains to continue their growth.


For some more photos, click below


http://www.flickr.com/photos/28321444@N05/sets/72157624832260056/show/

Sunday, July 18, 2010

It's all relative ...

“As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin'
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
'cause if there's one thing that she don't need
it's another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto

People, don't you understand
the child needs a helping hand
or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
are we too blind to see,
do we simply turn our heads
and look the other way ...”



Sometimes, even when it is nothing like the song, it's not in the ghetto, and even when it's tough there is love and food and education and family holidays and school and sporting trips ... and the young man grows, and it’s a special day; the last line can still be the same ...

"And his mama cries."

(In the ghetto lyrics by Elvis Presley)

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Open Garden - Phoenix rising

Come on in with me …
























Down the pebbled path in the shade …

Past the beautiful blue jar …























Beside the cool water of the pool …































Yet another interesting pot …








































Looking back …

































Yet more colour …





























View from the window …































Someone keeping watch …








































Orange door.




























All in all, a beautiful place ... don't you think?

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

The work situation ... ah ... about that

As I have said before, we must maintain the humour; even if the rage takes a break now and then.





Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Thursday, June 3, 2010