…the forest is still singing its song

having just flung the tea leaves off the verandah eyed the dark clouds registered the increased tempo of the wind and returned to the kitchen sink, I wonder if it will rain this time.

I gaze back into the yard and am struck by this surety I carry around that sooner or later this dry will give way to rain and back to abundance.

I realise that I still expect spring to follow winter to follow autumn to follow summer .I expect heat to give way to cold for wet to give way to dry , for all things to have their turn in the manner to which I am accustomed. And yet I am aware of fluctuations anomalies and records being broken again and again.

It shocks me that I hold this assumption, that it will keep rolling on as beautifully as it currently does because for all the cry of drought here in this land the forest is still singing its song.

Do I really think that the earth changes that climate scientists are discussing, the modelling they are demonstrating, the graphs and equations that appear in reports is going to happen somewhere else to someone else?

am I prepared for change and what on earth will it look like ???

A fire has been burning out of control in the hills near us since winter . A farmer was burning a heap and it ‘got away’ . It is still ‘away’ though being managed  by local fire brigades and their practice of back burning. living in a pall of smoke while listening to them tell me that over 15,000 hectares has burnt so far has become our new norm. that’s a lot of trees plants insects birds wallabies wombats echidnas possums goannas lizards – that’s a whole lot of life.

here the tall gums are flowering , the bees are busy and the forest is flourishing. out in the paddock world it is dry brown and harsh. monoculture does not serve the land well and this is a lesson that farmers would do well to learn.

the migratory birds are returning and setting up base . it is all a Song from dawn to dusk, a rich sweet melody of food and nesting, birth and family.

the red belly black snake that lives under the kitchen verandah is getting big and with a respectful dance we are sharing the space well. the frogs are occasionally being heard , the turtles have been spotted basking on the log in the dam which is getting lower day by day.

lenovo_a1000_img_20180919_143329.jpg

this beautiful flowering shrub is a callistemon. planted 20 years ago it occupies a huge space at the corner of our house. graciously it is feeding a dozen or so  wattlebirds and any number of honeyeaters .we are woken at dawn to a ruckus involving the weave and spill of bird and branch , of bully and balance as they all vie for the sweet nectar .

down from the tropical climes the stormbird has come   – this channel billed cuckoo turns up in spring to breed in this forest or should I say lay its egg in a nest.

the male bird scruffles around screeching close to the target host, either magpie currawong raven or butcher bird, and when they give chase as they do after a while because the screeching is really annoying, the female takes the opportunity to jump into the nest and leave an egg. kudos to the hosts – they take it on and feed the young cuckoo as one of their own.

this year the swallows are late to refurbish their nest , equinox is here and usually that is when the young ones emerge  –instead they are still fussing on nest detail .

the clouds have passed the wind has dropped and the sky is clear blue again.

if there is anything to be learnt from the weather it is that we are entwined one with each other.

our emotions ideas patterns and stories are shaped by the seasons much as the cliffs are worn by the ocean. the seasons are shaped by the elementals, the spin of the planets and the Spirit of all things.

thru recognising this relationship an honouring and respect of Nature is engendered.

we can build a bridge from our hearts to the heart of the universe, from your heart to eartheart .

we are indeed one with the elemental community of Air  Water  Fire  Earth and Spirit.

 

love sandra

x

 

W : welcome …

welcome to the land of the mist spiders

 

Autumn:

some early morning mist shrouds the forest in a thick silver grey blanket of moisture. Slung between branches and grasses are hundreds of webs, some as small as my hand, others bigger than a dinner plate and some shaped like baskets. Dewdrops hang poised on the gossamer threads and flash rainbows when caught in a sunbeam. A swamp wallaby sits under the wild cherry tree, having a bit of a scratch. A tiny head pops out from the pouch and looks around. Mother wallaby leans over and deftly clips a blade of grass to chew. Baby leans further out and clumsily sprawls onto the ground. It jumps up, leaps on Mum tumbles off has a scratch, ears twitch, a nibble then dives head first back into it‘s warm pocket.

Winter:

days shorten and darken, very few hours of sunlight reach thru the tall canopy of gums. Under cold moonlight the wombat moves unhurriedly thru the bush pausing often to listen scratch think and munch on grass.  A superb blue wren flies into the house each day and gathers rent from the bench tops while upstairs in the roof a diamond python sleeps.  The dead trees of the forest supply us with firewood which becomes our focus, a meditation of wood gathering, chopping, splitting and stacking. Beside the fire we dream warmly and stories are told.

 

Spring:

from the kitchen window we watch two red belly black snakes dance in the garden. They raise their sleek bodies up off the ground and exerting great force twine around and around each other pushing and swaying until one gives way. Quick as a flash they chase each other across the yard before rising up again going head to head. This is a male ritual of spring procreation. Over by the pond near the lemon tree a female is basking in sunshine. One of the males has to get his head higher than the other to become the winner, the alpha male. Much later John working in the shed notices the vanquished slink away thru the hedge. The winner glides sensuously over to the pond and curls up near the female where they loiter with intent well into the evening. The next day we discover them as coiled loops of black and red gently vibrating. Unlike the mating habits of the rooster and the hen this continues for hours.

Summer:

an echidna with a back full of quivering spikes shuffling along on tiny feet stops and sticks its pointy nose deep into the earth and slurps up the ants. Goanna wearing its tough leathery coat and long sharp claws has responded to the heat and cruises the forest hunting old deaths and getting scolded by kingfisher and kookaburra.  We discover a tortoise laying eggs in a hole in the middle of our track, why there we wonder?  Kingston helps place a barricade around the spot but we never see them hatch out. The white headed pigeon flies in thirsty after its long flight south, perches on the edge of the tank beside the verandah and takes a long deep drink. Another migrant the channel-billed cuckoo an outrider of the storm fronts moving down from up north turns up with a wild screech and looks for a nest to place its egg in. Wattlebirds arrive and immediately start bossing the eastern spine bill, the new holland honeyeater and the lewins.

welcome to the forest

of the faerie embassy

where the mist spiders live…

 

Exif_JPEG_420

 

this is chewed ears , he is the father of the little mob that hang about the house. here he is in a patch of  stinging nettle which he eats. truly .two theories on the chewed ears are a result of ticks on the ears or a bit of scrapping though we have only ever seen them play fighting each other so more likely ticks….

 

***